


Songfics - Actors

by agentmarvel



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 43,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmarvel/pseuds/agentmarvel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All songs can be found here:<br/>http://8tracks.com/agentmarvel/you-re-my-muse-my-masterpiece</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Told You - Chris Evans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Never Told You by Colbie Caillat.  
> <3

_“You know, Jess, I really love you,” Chris muttered, squeezing your hand._

_“I really love you, too, Johnny,” you answered, looking from his eyes to his lips. He gave you that perfect smile and pulled you underneath him, rolling on top. He balanced his weight on his elbows, pinning you to the mattress. Chris buried his face in your shoulder, probably to hide the chuckle that wracked his body._

_A chill ran the length of your spine as his lips brushed the base of your neck, and you struggled not to break character. Your fingertips trailed his scruffy jaw line and stopped under his chin, pulling his face to yours. He hesitated for a moment._ Such a good actor. He looks like he actually wants to kiss me. _You told yourself._

_Chris caught his lower lip between his teeth for a second, then rushed forward, tenderly pressing his lips against yours. You kept one hand on his jaw, allowing the other to thread itself into his hair. His bare upper body was pressed to yours, keeping your breasts hidden from the camera. The rhythm of his lips slowed a bit more, and his left hand came to rest of your hip. He gave it a gentle squeeze and you shifted to wrap both arms around his neck. There was next to no space between your bodies, and it felt like someone had set the entire bed on fire. You felt him smile against you, then a loss of contact._

_When Chris pulled away, chest heaving, a gasp escaped your mouth. A grin set itself back on his fucking perfect face, and he tucked your hair behind your ear. You both fought to regain control of your breathing, both sounding winded and ragged._

_“Cut!” the director, Adam, called, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. Chris’ eyes lingered a moment longer on yours, before finding their way to Adam’s._

_“How’d it look?” he asked in anticipation._

_“Flawless, you two! Really! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you guys were practicing,” Adam quipped, giving you a lopsided smirk. Chris shook his head, lifting his body off of yours._

_“Not this time, Adam.”_

_Ever the gentleman, Chris pulled the sheet up to cover your bare chest, shielding you from any eyes that may wander. He slid off the bed, handing you the t-shirt that was on the floor. You flipped it right-side out and pulled it on over your head. Sure, it belonged to Chris, but that was beyond okay with you. The scent of his cologne hung in the air for a moment and hugged your body._

_The springs in the mattress gave a groan of protest as Chris stood up, stretching out his shoulders. Then, he gave you a small wave, leaving that particular area of the set._

_“Maybe we should shoot that scene again. You know, make it longer, crazier…” Adam gave you a teasing wink and nudged you with his elbow. “When are you gonna tell him?”_

_You tilted your head slightly, lifting an eyebrow._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“You know damn well what I mean! It’s so obvious that you’re head over heels for him,” Adam accused, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You shook your head furiously, closing your eyes for a second. Instantly, the image of Chris on top of you filled your head. Your eyes focused intently on his blue ones. Your eyes shot open._

_“No… No. We’re friends, and we’re working together. You’re mistaking camaraderie for flirting again, Adam!” It was his turn to shake his head, and he pushed your shoulder lightly, walking you out the door._

_“You’re lying to yourself, kid. We can all see how you look at him.”_

*

“Over here! Over here!” The photographers kept calling your name, expecting you to stop every few steps. You complied, always looking directly into one camera or another with a big smile.

Normally, you weren’t one to get too cocky, but you weren’t surprised by any of this. You knew you looked damn good for this premiere. The lengthy black dress you’d chosen for this clung in all the right places, revealing a lot of cleavage and most of your back.

You gave the photographers a small wave and took a few steps forward, lifting the edge of your dress.

Ahead of you on the carpet, you caught sight of a familiar face. _Chris._ Your stomach leapt into your throat, and you felt your heart skip a few beats. Cliché, yeah, but he cleaned up _almost_ as well as you.

His eyes were skimming the carpet between flashes, and as soon as he caught sight of you, a massive grin appeared. He motioned you to join him up ahead, and before you could process it, your legs were carrying you towards him.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, pulling you into a tight hug. “You look fucking incredible!” A laugh escaped your lips, which were positioned right next to his ear.

“You look pretty snazzy yourself, Mr. Evans,” you cooed, lingering for a second before pulled away. You could swear the smile on his face had grown tenfold.

Chris settled an arm around your waist, silently directing you to whichever camera you needed to smile at. The two of you made small talk until you were ushered into the theatre by security. Your seats awaited up a small flight of stairs, leading the theatre balcony, but Chris stopped you before you were even halfway up the stairs.

His calloused fingers felt strangely soft against your skin as he pulled you to a stop. Chris found his footing on the same step as you, and his hands both found you face. There was an all too familiar gleam in his eyes.

“I’ve been waiting almost a year for this, and I should’ve told you.”

His lips pressed to yours once more, but this time it was different. There was nothing innocent about this kiss. It was heated, rough, almost desperate.

Chris nipped at your lower lip, before sucking on it feverishly. The sensation coaxed a small moan from you, and he took that opportunity to let the tip of his tongue prod yours domineeringly. You could feel that same smile forming on his lips again as he pulled back, resting his forehead on yours. Both of your eyes remained closed. His warm breath drifted over your lips, and you were sorely tempted to pull him back in for another kiss. He twirled a piece of your hair around his finger, moving his right hand down to hold the small of your back, keeping your bodies pressed together.

“I should’ve said it sooner,” he sighed, voice gravelly, still just centimeters from your lips. “The want never went away. Adam told me how you felt, and I was so fucking stupid. I can’t keep you off my mind. Haven’t been able to since that first kiss. I need to hear you say you’ll be mine.”

You just nodded, finally opening your eyes.

"Say it," he commanded, his husky tone dropping lower.

"I'm yours."


	2. Geronimo - Chris Evans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Geronimo by Sheppard.  
> For the darling CastielsLieutenant<3  
> Hope you like it, dear!

You weren’t really sure what had happened. Things started off great. At the first table read, everything was okay. The first two months of filming were fine. You and your co-star, a certain Chris Evans, hit it off without a hitch. Around month three of filming, though, things took a drastic change.

_“Morning, Chris!” you hummed cheerily. He shot you a weak smile and a half-assed wave before turning his eyes back to the script in his lap. He was sitting in his usual chair on the lot, with ‘Evans’ printed across the back. Your chair, however, was slid a good ten feet away from his, with your own copy of the script resting in it._

_You extended your arm, his usual Monday morning coffee in your hand. His eyes drifted to your hand, then back to the script._ Was it my morning for coffee? _The voice in your head sounded almost as confused as the look on your face portrayed._

_“Thanks, but I grabbed some on my way out earlier,” he replied curtly. Your brows furrowed in concern. You’d never seen him like this. This wasn’t the Chris you’d come to know. That Chris was full of smiles and laughter, always cracking jokes and maintaining eye contact. Maybe he was just having a bad morning…_

_“Oh… Well, I guess that’s more coffee for me, then!” you teased, trying to pull at least half a real smile from him. He licked his thumb and flipped the page, stoically. A frown tugged at your lips and an inaudible sigh escaped your throat._

And that was only the first of many unusual encounters with Chris. The second, however, was just a bit more odd than the first.

_Silently, you skimmed your lines for the day’s scenes; hoping filming would go better today than it had the last three weeks. You hadn’t seen much of Chris outside of your scenes together, except for his every-other-day routine of bringing you coffee in the morning, though you’d since stopped bringing his._

_Chris silently approached you, setting the medium-sized Starbucks cup down on the arm of your chair. Just as quickly and quietly as he’d come, he was gone again. You reached for the cup without looking, but you knew it was there._ What did you do? _You mentally cursed._ Why does he hate you? _You shook your head, clearing the thought._ He doesn’t hate me. He still brings me coffee. _Your argument with yourself seemed sound enough to silence the negativity, even if only for a few minutes._

_A short buzz of your phone notified you that you had a new text message. It was from Sam, another of your co-stars._

**_Set 3B. You’re needed!_ ** _was all she typed. You shot her back an affirmative message, noting that you’d be there in a minute. With coffee in hand, you set your script back in your chair and hurried off._

_Once to the end of the maze of hallways, you stepped into the small studio, decorated to look like a bedroom. Chris stood shirtless on the opposite side of the room, and Sam approached you, a big ol’ shit-eating grin plastered on her face._

_“You ready?” she asked, poking your sides with her index fingers. You swatted at her hands, taking a large gulp of your coffee._

_“Ready for what? It’s just a kissing scene, Sammi. Done it a few times.” Your tone was short and clipped._

_“Christ, kid… You two still not talking?” You shook your head and she groaned your name. “Come on! We need chemistry between you two. Tell him to get his head out of his ass.”_

_You snorted a bit and rolled you eyes, peering at him over her shoulder. His hands were flailing, most likely in the context of his conversation with Max, his on-screen roommate. Chris crossed his arms as Max dominated the discussion. His face bore a look of contempt, tension built up in his forehead and his jaw clenched._

_“Alright, everyone! Places!” the director called. Chris looked away from Max and made brief eye contact with you, breaking it before you’d even realized what happened. Sam and Max rushed off the set, stopping behind the cameras. Chris swallowed hard, watching you carefully hand your coffee to a production assistant with a smile. If you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn that a faint smile inundated his full lips._

It was after that morning that he’d stopped bringing you coffee. The thoughts of what went wrong plagued your mind incessantly since then, though Sam and Max adamantly denied any wrongdoing on your part.

“He’s just trying not to lose focus,” Sam had insisted.

“Chris is probably like this on every movie he works on,” Max had assured.

But none of it seemed to matter. You could feel it in your bones that he really didn’t like you. In the five months you’d been filming with him, he’d never been as receptive to you as he was in the first two months…

 

*

 

Your sides ached from all the laughter. Sam was making all sorts of jokes about Max and Chris, and what everyone called their “bro-mance”. Even Chris and Max were cracking up.

A mere hour before, the director had called wrap on the film, demanding that everyone go out and celebrate, which was exactly how you’d ended up in a quaint little bar on the south end of the city, with Sam, Max, a few production members, and Chris.

After the fifth or sixth beer, Max had suggested a game of Truth or Dare. The small group of you had protested, and in turn, had been called a bunch of pussies by Chris.

“Bring it on!” he hollered, slamming his empty bottle of Sam Adams down on the table. Max gave everyone a sadistic leer and rubbed his palms together.

“You’re first,” he chuckled, jabbing you in the ribs with his elbow. You rolled your eyes, muttering dare. He raised a finger, signaling you to wait for a moment. He took off towards the bar. Sam gave you a familiar simper, before chugging the rest of her drink.

Upon Max’s return, he placed a shot on the table in front of you. God only knows what it was, but he dared you to drink it. You tipped your head back, swallowing whatever concoction was in your hand. The burn of bile hit your throat and you held back a cough.

“Jesus Chris, Max… What was that?” He just grinned and looked at Sam.

“Alright, my turn,” she muttered.

This game continued back and forth for a while, until it came time for Chris to choose again. He threw his hands up.

“Truth, since no one’s picked it yet,” his voice sounded apprehensive at first. Max couldn’t hold back from laughing as Sam ran her finger around the rim of her umpteenth Jack and coke.

“Alright, Chris… Tell my girl over here how you really feel about her.” She clapped a hand on your shoulder, and his face paled almost instantly.

“Nevermind, can I have a dare?” he asked, swallowing his third shot of Southern Comfort.

“Okay,” Sam began, swirling her glass in her hand. “I dare you to tell her how you feel.”

Chris was visibly uncomfortable, clearing his throat. He leaned across the table, resting his shaky hands on top of your clammy ones. A chill shot up your spine. His eyes lowered to meet yours, and his voice slurred for a second as he began.

“Okay, sssooo…” he had to stop for a moment and rid his throat of the nervous giggles. Chris cleared his throat, casting a glance to the pair sitting beside the two of you.

“Alright, I guess it’s time I came clean. I am a _fucking_ idiot. I’m a real fuckin’ meatball. I’ve been such an ass this whole time because I… Well, I really like you, and I got scared. I promised myself I wouldn’t date another actress again, and then I met you, and you’re the kinda girl I’d be proud to call mine, but I know how this shit goes, more often than not, and I didn’t think I could risk the hurt that comes with it, and I’m sorry.” He stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath. Chris let his thumbs rub the back of your hands. “Can you forgive me? Let me take you to dinner when we’re not drunk. I mean, we can get drunk after if you wanna, but can I take you on a date first? Like a real one? I promise I’m not the big, dumb idiot I’ve been acting like lately. I really just-“

You’d heard enough. Even inebriated, you knew he’d never concede until you agreed to let him make it up to you. Before your brain could stop you, your body was on the move. Your hip avoided the edge of Sam’s chair as you leaned eagerly down to Chris’ face, putting one hand on his cheek and the other in his hair. The word ‘just’ had just rolled off his lips, and you took it was an invitation to lean down and press your lips hard to his. It took him a second to register what was going on.

As you were about to pull away, his hands both came to rest on the sides of your neck. The fervor of the kiss intensified, and your mind went blank. A faint sound of clapping and hollering came from the pair sitting behind you.

When Chris pulled away, you weren’t ready for the kiss to end. A dejected groan manifested itself from your throat, and his eyes were dead set on yours. A drunken blush crept upon your cheeks.

“So that’s a yes, right?” he recapped, not breaking contact. You nodded.

_If I’m gonna fall for him, he’s just gotta say “Geronimo”..._


	3. Just So You Know - Chris Evans - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Just So You Know by Jesse McCartney.  
> For the lovely Winter_Rose7. Thank you for feeding my ego!
> 
> <3

Nothing is worse than the feeling of unrequited love. Neither death nor dishonor could be more agonizing than disinterest, especially when you confess said love to the object of your affection.

You’d spend months working up the nerve to tell him. After filming Avengers: Age of Ultron, it hit you like a train. You were in love with Chris Evans and everything about him. Everything from the way he grabbed his chest in the throes of laughter to the way he fidgeted with rigid seams of his Captain America suit. Everything from how he would awkwardly cross and then uncross his legs to the way he looked at his cup of coffee when it was almost empty.

When you’d finally summoned the courage to tell him, it was terrifying. You were worried, scared, and completely unprepared for what happened.

_Your palms were sweating, and you kept nervously wiping them on your jeans. It was the final night of filming, and the director had called it a wrap. You had to be on a flight to London for another film early in the morning, so there was no way you could stay for the wrap party, and you had to tell him. God only knows if you’d be able to see him before filming began for the first half of Avengers: Infinity War. Hell, you didn’t even know if he was contractually obligated to take part in it. You didn’t honestly know if you’d ever see that smile again off-screen._

What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he thinks I’m crazy? What if he hates me?

_A seemingly endless list of what-ifs shuffled through your mind, and you had to stop walking, stop looking, and take a deep breath. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you exhaled slowly. Your fingers trembled as you heard a familiar burst of profanity, followed by the sound of a few people hooting._

_“On your left, kid,” someone whispered in your ear. You turned slightly, looking over your shoulder. Anthony Mackie stood there, drink in hand. He held his arms out, inviting you in for a hug. “Come on, come on, bring it in!”_

_You cracked a soft smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. He reciprocated, giving you a soft squeeze around your midsection._

_“Gonna miss seein’ you around. You gonna miss me?” he asked, nudging you playfully with his elbow. You rolled your eyes with an ever-widening grin and shook your head._

_“Nah. It’ll be nice to get rid of all you smelly guys for a while,” you joked. He put his hand on his chest and let out a pained wheeze._

_“Girl, that’s cold. Real cold.”_

_“Really, though, Mack, I will miss you. Keep in touch, or I’ll have to hunt you down.” He cocked an eyebrow, taking a swig of his beer, which he chased with a cheesy leer._

_“Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep in touch. Gotta get the dirt on this new movie you’re doin’ anyway!”_

_The two of you carried on for a bit before Scarlett interrupted, apologizing to Anthony and asking if she could borrow you for a few minutes. Anthony, of course, cracked a joke about the two of you sneaking around, and bid you goodbye before departing back into the sea of people. You looked at them longingly, hoping to see Chris pop out somewhere, but Scarlett had other ideas._

_She dragged you by the arm away from the crowd. It was a cramped, secluded spot out of earshot of anyone else._

_“Did you tell him yet?” she prodded. You shook your head and she sighed, putting her hands on your shoulders gently. “You’ve got a flight out of the country in six hours, honey, and we both know you’ll be gone for a long time. Say something before you go. I promise it’ll work out the way you want it to.”_

_You scoffed, redirecting your gaze to the wall, trying to find something of interest to stare at. She grabbed your chin, hissing your name firmly, commanding that your look at her. You gave in, looking into her eyes with skepticism._

_In the time you’d known her, she’d become your closest friend. You shared everything with her and vice versa. There were no secrets between the two of you._

_“You know I wouldn’t lie to you. Chris has feelings for you. It’s obvious. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.” You nodded, feeling quite reassured. She encouraged you to take a few deep inhalations, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and sent you on your way back to find him._

_You spied a familiar coif of blonde hair, and you made a beeline for him. He welcomed you with a tremendous hug, and it lingered a bit longer than most would deem comfortable. You asked to speak to him alone, and he obliged._

_So there you stood, pouring your heart out to him, telling him everything._

Honestly, you didn’t really remember the details of your half of the conversation. It was all a blur of nervous rambling. But you very clearly remembered his response.

_His eyes were wide, his broad shoulders were tense, and he’d just about chewed a hole in his lip. After a succinct moment of silence, his lips parted and his brows creased. The tip of his tongue pocketed itself in the corner of his lips for a moment, and his gaze avoided yours._

_“I… Wow. I didn’t know you felt that way,” Chris murmured, bringing his hand to the back of his neck. He rubbed at it absent-mindedly before finally looking at you again. “That’s… That’s really flattering. Thank you.”_

_It was your turn to look away. Nervously, you nipped at your lip. It took all of your strength not to break down and cry in that moment. Two thoughts battled for dominance in your head, one being to run, the other being that Scarlett was wrong for once._

_You let out the breath you’d unconsciously been holding in._

_“I’d better get going, then. Just thought you needed to know,” you muttered, avoiding his stare._

_You didn’t get any sleep that night. Between packing, crying, repacking, crying more, and the incessant flow of texts, there was neither time nor room for sleep. All texts went unanswered. As guilty as you felt about it, you were really in no mood to talk to anyone. It felt like you’d been sucker punched in the stomach. Another wave of nausea swept over you, and you couldn’t tell if it was because you were going to throw up, or because you’d cried yourself to the point of throwing up. It wasn’t until you’d actually boarded the plane that you checked your messages._

**_15 Unread Messages; 8 Missed Calls, 5 New Voicemails_ **

_You settled on starting with the missed calls, deciding it was too late for the voicemails (being on the plane), and too early to call anyone back._

_One was from your mom, one from Jeremy, two from Scarlett, and four from Chris. You felt a twinge of guilt, wondering if ignoring your phone the previous night was of any use._

_You sighed, easing your way into the texts next._

**_From: Scarlett_ **

**_Where did you go?_ **

**_I just talked to Chris. Call me._ **

**_Quit ignoring me, or I’m coming over._ **

**_Fine. At least text me before your flight, okay?_ **

_You tapped out a quick response, telling her you were awaiting take-off and you’d call when you landed._

**_From: Wing-Man Mackie_ **

**_Hope your flight goes well. Miss you already!_ **

_Another quick response was sent to Anthony: Miss you too, man. Better see you when I get back!_

**_From: Prince Chris of Melbourne_ **

**_Sorry I didn’t catch you before you left. Thanks for all the morning chats! Gonna miss it tomorrow._ **

_Your reply to Hemsworth’s text was, much like the others, short and sweet: I miss it already!_

**_From: Tom_ **

**_Heard you’re headed to London. I’ll give you a call when I get back, and maybe we can meet for lunch or something. Have a great flight! xx_ **

_Now Tom, ever the chivalric gentleman, managed to coax a few more words: Absolutely! Most of my schedule is night shoots, so I’ll be relatively free in the afternoons. Just let me know!_

_But once you saw Chris’ name on the screen again, your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, and the nausea quickly returned._

**_From: Captain Chris-merica_ **

**_Can we talk? Please?_ **

**_Fuck. I’m sorry. I really wanna talk about this._ **

**_Please tell me you don’t completely fucking hate me. I feel like a complete asshole right now._ **

**_Please don’t ignore me. I don’t want this going unresolved._ **

**_Sorry I’m blowing up your phone, but I need to talk to you._ **

**_Come on. I’m gonna keep doing this until you say something._ **

_The last one forced a small smile on your face, mostly because you could just picture him saying it._

_His texts had been sent every hour, on the hour, with the last being sent ten minutes prior to your imminent departure._

_The intercom crackled as the stewardess’ voice came on, requesting that you shut off and stow all electronics until further notice. Your compliance was a necessity, so you powered down your phone and dropped it in your bag._


	4. Just So You Know - Chris Evans - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to split this one into two parts to include everything I wanted.  
> In case you missed it, this one is inspired by the song Just So You Know by Jesse McCartney.
> 
> <3

That was nearly four months ago.

You hadn’t spoken with Chris since you left. It was purely out of your own wounded pride and stubbornness. He’d tried desperately to get in touch with you, whether it be by mean of texts, calls, or tweets, but to no avail. You weren’t really sure you could handle that yet anyways. You avoided throwing pity parties for one by immersing yourself in filming and spending as much time as possible promoting and staying busy.

Staying busy meant no time to think about Chris, and that’s exactly what you needed. But what you needed and what actually happened are two different stories.

Upon his arrival back in London, Tom kept true to his word. He called almost as soon as he’d left the airport, insisting that you no longer stay in a hotel, but in his guest room.

“More space, more comfort, and it’d save your production team quite a bit of money in the long run.” He had persisted, refusing to take no for an answer. You’d only been in London for a month at that point, and after discussing it through the proper channels, you felt compelled to take him up on it.

Your three new co-stars were quite friendly. You’d really hit it off with all of them, and they all got along famously with Tom, so the pair of you spent a lot of time with the lot of them.

The two male leads, though, had a habit of being overtly flirtatious with you, like it was a competition between the two of them for your attention. As flattering as it was, your thoughts always strayed right back to Chris. No matter how hard you fought it, it always went back to him.

It always went back to his angular face. His defined jaw line, and how when he wasn’t filming, it was obscured by a neatly-trimmed beard. The thought of those bright blue eyes of his, flecked near the center with green, was burned into your mind, and every time you even so much as blinked, they were at the forefront.

And you wanted to hate it.

 

“Good morning, darling. Hungry?” Tom cooed as you staggered into the kitchen. You nodded slowly, tightening the drawstring on your pajama bottoms in an effort to keep them up. Technically, they were Tom’s pants, but you’d commandeered them from the dryer a week prior, informing him that they were yours until you left. He took no offense, stating you were more than welcome to anything of his, which apparently, as of right now, included his food.

Tom slipped a plate in front of you as you took a seat at the table, commenting that he made you favorite breakfast. You raised an eyebrow, simply asking him what shenanigans he was up to. He shook his head, his famous chuckle rising in his throat.

“I’m not up to anything, dear. Just being hospitable.” You shot him a suspicious glance. He picked up another full plate, and turned towards the hallway. “I’ve got a bit of work to do, so if you need anything, just call for me.”

His smile was mischievous as he bounded down the hall, leaving you with a lingering curiosity.

“Nothing goes better with breakfast than script reading,” you muttered to yourself, sliding your chair back. You followed Tom’s lead down the hall, passing his bedroom door. Opposite the daily norm, it was closed.

You thought. _I’ve never actually seen his door shut._

There was a minor hesitation, the temptation to knock, but you suppressed it, continuing to what had temporarily become your room. You darted in, grabbing a pair of socks off the top of your suitcase and your copy of the film’s script off the dresser, and headed back towards to kitchen.

The sudden audible appearance of Tom’s voice caught you off guard, though, and you froze.

“Believe me; you have nothing to worry about.” His voice was hushed and muffled. “She is completely oblivious. There’s a reason I find employment as an actor. We’ve been discussing this for over a month, and she’s none the wiser.” He paused, and you could’ve sworn you’d heard another voice answering him.

_Must just be on the phone…_

“I assure you, she’ll be ecstatic.” There was a sigh that followed, and you were almost positive that the noise couldn’t have come from Tom. You went to lean in closer, but the floorboard creaked under your bare feet. A breath caught in your chest, and you calmly headed back to the kitchen.

You slipped on your socks to warm up your feet and settled back in the chair with a full mug of coffee and your script. The script was dog-eared on page 42, the scene you were shooting later that night. Curiosity was rampant in your mind, though.

_What was Tom talking about? She? Was that me? Who was he talking to?_

The sound of Tom calling your name drew you back, and you looked up just in time to see him lean in from the doorway.

“Could you lend me a hand?” he asked, flashing that scintillating smile of his. “I can’t reach something.”

You recoiled with a look of disbelief.

“You? Thomas Hiddleston, the eight-foot-bean-pole? _You_ can’t reach something?” He chuckled, holding his hand out.

“Figure if I give you a little boost, you could grab it. I set it on the top of my bookshelf, but it fell over. Come on, it’ll only take a second,” he pleaded. Your response included a smirk, an eye roll, and you grabbing his outstretched hand.

With glee, he tugged your arm, pulling you eagerly to his bedroom. Once across the threshold, he closed the door behind you, earning a puzzled look.

“Mind out of the gutter, love,” he quipped, pointing to the shelf just to the left of the hinges. A blush crept across your face, and he moved his grip from your hand to your hips, telling you that the book he was after was at the back, pressed against the wall.

“Ready?” You nodded, bracing yourself. He lifted you so effortlessly, and you could see what he meant. Just as you were reaching for it, you heard that same floorboard creak and groan under pressure. Tom let out a nervous cough, asking hurriedly if you got the book. You snatched it quickly, asking Tom to put you down. He obeyed, setting you back on your feet. A quick ‘thank you’ was all he gave before he removed the book from your hands, and yanked the door back open, leaving space for you to exit first.

Cautiously, you stepped out, with Tom close behind you. You moved back towards the kitchen, but what you saw in front of you made you stop dead in your tracks.

There, at the kitchen table, sat none other than Christopher Evans. His elbows rested on his knees, and his hands were folded together. A sharp gasp from you caused him to look up through his thick, lengthy eyelashes and an effervescent grin mounted his lips. His voice came out shaky, but he managed your name, coupled with ‘hey’.

The warmth of Tom standing behind you dissipated quickly, leaving a slight chill in its place, and you felt almost bare. Nervously, your hand hitched to your opposing upper arm. You were too stunned to really say anything back, and Chris took notice.

He stood, and, in less than three strides, crossed to you. Chris was a good head taller than you, at least, so you had to adjust to look up at him. The freckles that peppered his face had never been such a beautiful sight to you.

You pressed your palms against his pecs, almost as if you needed reassurance that he was really there. His hands, rough and warm, enveloped yours.

“I’m guessing this means you don’t hate me as much as I hate myself,” he chuckled as you shook your head. His fingers departed from yours, and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, hugging you to his chest. “I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much.”

His lips pressed to the top of your head, and you finally relaxed into his hold.

“What are you doing here?” you grumbled. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, Chris. I am.” He loosened his grip just enough to make eye contact with you.

“After we finished Ultron, you know, when you told me everything, you really caught me off guard. I was pretty surprised, and I reacted like a fuckin’ meatball.”

“No, Chris, it’s-“

“I’m not done,” was his reply. “After you left, it hit me. What you said. Hit me like a sack of bricks, and I was so pissed that I didn’t say anything.”

“You said ‘thank you’. At least your mom won’t kick your ass for forgetting your manners,” you sniggered. His smile only grew, and he pulled you back in for another round of bone-crushing hugging. This time, his lips moved lower, finding a place on your temple to kiss repeatedly.

“I’m so sorry,” he rumbled in the breaths between. “You’ve been on my mind every day since then. Even my distractions reminded me of you.”

You leaned up, catching his rambling lips with yours. He stilled for a moment, but then one of his hands migrated back to yours, gripping it like he’d never let go. The other arm found the small of your back and closed off any semblance of space between your bodies, not that there really was any. You felt the flutter of his eyelashes against your skin as he closed his eyes. The pressure of his lips to yours increased tenfold as he responded. After what felt like an hour, you pulled back to take a breath.

“I love you too,” he whispered, chasing the taste of your name on his tongue. “Just so you know.”


	5. I See You - Chris Evans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song I See You by Luke Bryan.  
> I had previously posted this one, but I reworked most of it.
> 
> <3

Chris knocked back the last of his beer. His eyes focused on the screen of his phone that bore the contact information for her. His thumb lingered over the delete button. _Come on, Chris. Don’t be so pathetic. She’s gone, and she’s not coming back_. His mind was racing at a million miles an hour, and his nerves were completely shot. Shaking his head, Chris pulled his thumb back, staring at the picture set as her contact ID.

It was a picture from her last birthday. His arms were wrapped tight around her midsection, with his chin on her shoulder. Goofy grins were plastered across both of their mouths, and there was cake and frosting all over both faces.

“Chris!” a voice called over the music. He lifted his eyes from his phone just long enough to see his co-star, Robert, beckoning him over to the small crowd of women gathered in the corner. The corner of Chris’ lips tugged at a half-assed smile and he shook his head, lifting his empty bottle in the air.

This was Downey’s attempt at getting Chris to take someone home with him, get him over her. And as much as Chris appreciated it, he couldn’t do that to her. When you love someone as much as Chris loved her, it lost all feasibility.

A set of gentle fingertips found their way to his shoulder, and all Chris caught was a curtain of hair. His first thought was that it was her. _Right height, right body type, but it’s not her._ She set another bottle down in front of him and gave him a smile.

“Anything else I can get for you?” The pitch of her voice even matched _hers_ , and Chris, dumbstruck, took a moment to answer.

“No, ma’am, but thank you.” His voice waivered slightly, and he took a long, slow blink. By the time he’d opened his eyes, the waitress was gone. He could hear the whooping and hollering of his cast-mates, who were obviously enjoying themselves, but he couldn’t bring himself to join them. It’d been three months. Three agonizing months, and he still couldn’t push it aside.

_“Chris, this is never going to work…” she told him. Tears streaked her paled pink cheeks and he reached for her._

_“Babe, come on. We can make this work. I swear to God, I’ll start setting aside more time for you.”_

_“No,” she sighed, wiping at her cheeks furiously with the back of her hand. “You’ve promised me that so many times. You’re never home, and when you are, you’re spending time with everyone else. I love you, Chris, but I just can be the last priority anymore.” His face fell from a look of concern to a look of complete and utter despair. His bright blue eyes felt like they were burning holes into her skull as she turned around and started packing again._

_“No…” His voice echoed hers, and tears burned the brims of his eyes, threatening to spill over at any second. Chris took a deep breath and gently wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his forehead in the crook of her neck. “No, no. Come on, honey. You don’t mean that. Please… Can we just talk about this?”_

_She shook her head firmly and pulled away from him, grabbing the last of her shirts from the closet._

Almost on cue, Chris felt the tears welling up again. He swallowed the building knot in his throat, and stood up.

The song changed in the back of his head, stirring up the night he met her, and it was almost too much for Chris.

_In a low-brow bar in downtown Boston, Chris leaned back against the bar, resting his elbows on the countertop. How in the world he’d been talked into going out dancing with his brother was beyond him. He chuckled, spying Scott dancing like a maniac. He’d had one too many drinks, and let’s just say it wasn’t too pretty. Chris pressed the rim of his bottle of beer back to his lips, taking a swig, and eyed the crowd._

_A pretty girl was just emerging, her fingers intertwined with another girl._ Look enough alike to be sisters. _He thought to himself. The pair seated themselves about five stools down, both receiving fresh bottles from the bar tender. Chris found his eyes wandering again, in search of where his brother had moved to. He scanned the ever-growing group until someone blocked his line of sight. It was the girl. She flicked a strand of hair out of her eyes and extended a hand to him._

 _“Come dance with me,” she shouted over the music. Chris hesitated, taking another drink of his beer. “Come on. You don’t get to be a wallflower tonight!”_ _A hushed chortle echoed from his throat and he set his bottle down, taking her hand._

_“I’m Chris.”_

_“Nice to meet you!” She grinned, offering up her name._

His legs carried him to the exit of the bar, and he found himself standing in the alley. His hands were clenched into fists and his chest heaved. _Get out of my fucking head!_ He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t shut it down. All these thoughts and memories were flooding his mind, and he couldn’t take it.

A solitary tear slid down his cheek. He was quick to wipe it away. He pulled his phone out and started a text to her.

**Why can’t I get you out of my head? I miss you so much. I need you. Come home. Please.**

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, backspacing everything. Chris closed the blank text and recomposed himself, before heading back inside.

The establishment door opened, and a familiar scent hit him like a ton of bricks. Her perfume. A shiver ran up his spine, and his throat went dry.

 _She’s here_.

His eyes scanned the room, spotting Robert and Hemsworth with a woman. She matched _her_ exactly from behind. _It’s just the waitress again. It’s not her_. But just as this thought came across, he spotted the waitress about three tables behind the trio.

_It IS her. It has to be._

Suddenly, his feet were moving faster than he realized. As he approached them, his hand instinctively reached out, gracing her shoulder.

 

*

 

The smile on Robert’s face was your first clue that it was Chris. With a deep breath, you turned your head slowly, meeting his gaze with a weak smile.

“Chris, hey,” you said softly, trying to be friendly enough, but still keep your wall up.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in L.A.,” he half-whispered. It was hard to hear him over the music, and his eyes were bleary.

“I just got back. Downey called, asked me to meet him for drinks. I didn’t know anyone else was going to be here.” You could just see his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. Of course, you weren’t telling him the whole truth. Robert told you who he was with when he called, and he only called to see when you were coming back.

Robert had mentioned that, for the last three months, Chris had been a bit of a mess. He’d been moody, withdrawn, and more anxious than usual. But if you were honest, you were the same way. It was a stupid fight all because you wanted more of his time. You knew Chris barely had any free time, between flights, premieres, press, filming, and god knows whatever else his agent had him doing. Selfishness got the better of you, and it set you up to make the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.

“You didn’t? Gee whiz, kid, I’m pretty sure I told you,” Robert chided, jabbing you with his elbow. You shot him a mocking glare. You were hoping he wouldn’t say that. With a sheepish grin, you looked back to Chris. The smile playing at his lips was brazen.

“So, you _did_ know I was here, huh?” Chris jested, taking his opportunity to jar you with his elbow as well. You looked down for a moment, feeling a sudden rush of heat to your cheeks. It was like your first date with him all over again…

“Yeah, truth is… I just wanted to see you. I’m sorry, Chris. Really. I fucked up.”

Chris didn’t hesitate or even give it a second thought before his lips crushed yours. He pulled you tight against him, those repressed tears rolling off his cheeks. Like an old habit, you fell right back into it, relaxing into him. His soft, warm lips parted briefly, and Chris took a deep breath.

“Jesus Christ, I’ve missed you so much,” he muttered, almost inaudibly, into your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“It’s my fault. I was too hard on you,” you said softly, rubbing your thumbs in circles on his sides. His shoulders relaxed and he pulled back, looking you in the eye.

“I love you.” Chris had his most serious face on, searching your eyes for any sign that you wanted to make up. The big, dumb grin returned to your mouth, and like a contagion, spread to his face. He eyed Robert and Hemsworth over your shoulder, silently thanking them.

“I love you, too.”


	6. Take Your Time - Chris Evans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Take Your Time by Sam Hunt.  
> Probably going to re-write the ending after I finish some other things.  
> Feedback appreciated.
> 
> <3

Chris was familiar enough with the bar scene. He knew how people acted when they got drunk. He knew that about three-quarters of the men who frequented this particular establishment tended to develop a sense of self-entitlement when it came to setting their sights on a particular woman. Typically, the bartender would kick them out. Occasionally, they’d get maced, and _then_ the bartender would kick them out. Prowling for women wasn’t something Chris was interested in, let alone doing it in a bar.

There was one woman, though, that definitely caught his eye. Every Friday night for the last month, he’d go to the same place and have a few drinks. Sometimes he went with a friend of his, other times with one of his siblings. The first two times were just because Scott had grown fond of the place and refused to let Chris spent a Friday night at home. But when he saw her, he decided it needed to be a regular thing. Part of him wanted her to approach first, but another part was waiting for him to work up the courage to go talk to her.

He watched, week after week, as she shut down every guy that approached her. She’d roll her eyes and turn back to her friend, or she’d tell whichever tool stopped by to go to hell. They were always trying to get her drunk, take her home, or at least buy her a drink. Most guys waited until she was alone, but her friend would always butt in, cutting the conversation short. That was a bit intimidating for Chris. He didn’t want to get shot down if he could avoid it.

But tonight… Tonight was different. He came in alone, and it looked like she had too. So this was the time for him to make his move, right?

Chris moved cautiously but deliberately, narrowly avoiding the row of chairs. His eyes never left her, though she was staring down at her phone. It felt like his heart was about to beat itself right out of his chest. The struggle of it against his rib cage set his teeth on edge. Sweat beaded in his palms, and he had to fight not to wipe them against his jeans until he absolutely had to. No way was he going to shake her hand with waterlogged hands.

She must’ve felt him staring, because she when she looked up, her eyes settled on his. Those flawless lips of hers curled into a soft smile as he approached. The toe of one shoe hitched on his ankle, and he stumbled slightly, bumping someone’s chair. He quickly apologized, regaining his composure. _Shit, Evans. That was real fuckin’ smooth._

The smile playing on her mouth morphed into a grin as she casted her gaze down for a moment. He knew she was stifling a laugh. Chris stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, tensing his shoulders. She’s never going to talk to me. Fuckin’ ski feet, dude. God damn it.

When he stopped beside her table, that sweet look returned. He scrubbed his palm against the fabric of his pocket before whipping his hand out, putting it right in front of her.

“I can’t keep walking passed you without introducing myself,” he managed to get out. “I’m Chris.” Though he already knew her name, he let her reply and shake his hand. Her palm felt like silk against his calloused flesh, and it sent a ribbon of chills up his spine.

“Would it be awfully cliché for me to ask if I could buy you a drink?” Her expression softened even further, but she still maintained the same look.

“I’d like that.” _Well, then…_ Chris wasn’t expecting that. Normally, she turned away free drinks from strangers. “You know, you’re the first guy to actually ask.” His eyebrows shot up, almost high enough to meld with his hairline.

“Seriously?” She nodded gravely, raising her empty bottle to the bartender. Chris couldn’t see him, but she held up two fingers. Within a few minutes, two fresh, cold beers were on the table. Chris slipped him a twenty, telling him to keep the change. Once he walked away, Chris eyed the condensation on the drinks. He could tell his cheeks were aflame just by the heat radiating as his nimble fingers combed over his beard.

“Is it alright with you if I sit down with you?” A foreign apprehension in his voice was startling even to him. His anxiety ebbed, though, as she gestured with an open palm to the chair across from her. She nudged it out with her foot, and he plopped down, scooting back up to the table.

“Seems like I see you here a lot, Chris,” she said plainly, taking a long swig of her beer. He chuckled, thumbing a stripe of fog from the glass of his own bottle.

“Yeah, it’s one of my brother’s favorite places. He can’t stand spending a Friday night in the house.” A look of realization washed over her face and she tipped her head back slightly.

“You’re Scott’s brother, aren’t you? The big famous actor guy?” The severity of his burning cheeks increased tenfold, and he looked back at his drink, palming the label.

“Well, I wouldn’t go _that_ far, but… Wait, you know Scott?” Her eyebrows pressed upwards as she pulled the rim of the bottle away from her lips. There was a hard swallow coupled with a loose laugh.

“Scott comes in all the time. He’s actually spent the last few months telling me everything under the sun about you.” Chris’ throat tightened for a second, and he swore he was about to choke on his drink. _Typical Scott. Always trying to pair me off with someone._

“Oh no,” he muttered, shaking his head. More anxious chuckles erupted from his throat. “I hope he hasn’t embarrassed me too much.”

“He knows what you ‘wike’, that’s for sure,” she retorted, bumping his shin with her foot.

“Shit… Of _course_ he had to tell you about that.”

 

*

 

“Shit… Of _course_ he had to tell you about that,” Chris chuckled, scrubbing a hand over his scruffy chin. You drummed your fingers against the glass. _He’s cute when he’s flustered._

“He’s been telling me about you for months, actually. Every Friday night for the last five months, he’d open a tab and sit down with me, and we’d have a few beers together while he talked you up. Actually, he was just doing that last week when he came in with you.” You shot him a playful wink over the bottle’s rim and took a long sip. His hand came to rest on his forehead as he whispered a quiet ‘oh no’. The blush on his cheeks began to spread, blending into the edges of his beard.

“Oh my God, that’s so embarrassing…” Reaching over, you pulled his hand away from his face. You held it in your own on top of the table, trying you best to be reassuring.

“Maybe, but at least he did a good job,” you snorted. He cocked his head to the side, giving you an incredulous smile. It looked like relief and anticipation of what was to come, and that was something that, in turn, magnified your smile to the point of nearly painful.

“Seriously? Scott? He didn’t take the opportunity to totally humiliate me? Wow, that’s a first.” He chuckled, spinning his bottle around with his free hand. You hummed in approval, pushing your own empty one to the edge of the table.

“I never said that. I just said he did a good job.”

“That little shit. What did he tell you?” You looked at your fingernails for a second, stalling. He slipped his fingers out of yours and placing his palm against the back of your hand. His stare was insistent. “Oh, come on! If he’s telling embarrassing stories about me, I deserve to know, right?”

With an earnest laugh, you drew your hand back, signaling Jared for another pair of beers.

“Well, where do I start? He told me about your god awful prank that ended up in him wetting himself. Also the Disney parties with your nephew. Something about terrible school pictures, you modeling for a cheesy board game, and your brief stint as a drag queen on national television. He also might have mentioned your man-crush on the Romanian kid you worked with.” You weren’t sure that his face could get any redder, but when your pensive stare turned back to him, it had. Again, he buried his face in his hands, raking one through his hair.

“I’m gonna kick his ass when I get home,” Chris muttered with a mortified laugh. “And there’s nothing wrong with appreciating how attractive other men are.” You shook your head.

“Oh, trust me, I know. He just said you won’t admit it.” He glanced at his watch quickly, grinning.

“At least he didn’t tell you about… Er, I’ve really enjoyed this, y’know. Still got some things to do tonight, and I’m sorry to be so forward, but are you busy tomorrow night?” That put you into panic mode. _Guys like Chris don’t go for girls like me_. He looked genuine, sincere, but would that be enough?

“Look, Chris… We don’t have to fall in love; you don’t have to meet my mom, and we don’t have to make this a frequent thing. We don’t have to go dancing or spend the night together. This doesn’t have to turn into anything if you don’t want it to, and-”

“Right now, all I want is some time alone with you. Will you let me take you out? Y’know, for dinner? It’s only a little after nine, and I know a great place nearby.”

“Thought you had things to do tonight?”

“Nothing that can’t wait ‘til tomorrow. Let’s go.”


	7. Jealous - Sebastian Stan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Jealous by Nick Jonas.  
> Mixed POV.  
> Update 3/15/2015: Has been partially rewritten.

Sebastian crossed his arms, sizing up what he could only call competition. Nothing pissed him off more than seeing other guys hit on you, whether it be in life or on film. Deep down, he knew that these other guys were no threat to him, but he couldn’t help it. You were an undeniably beautiful girl… _Everyone’s favorite obsession_. Sometimes he thought things were getting out of control in his head. He couldn’t watch any scene where you kissed another man anymore. Just pissed him off, made him want to fuck someone up. Half the time, the littlest physical contact would set him off: hugs, handshakes, someone putting their arm around you for pictures... He’d tried to block the feelings with reassurance. _I know she loves me. Not him. Me. He's nothing to her._  But it didn’t always help him.

 

*

 

Sebastian reached for his iPod, adjusting the volume to drown out his obsessive thoughts. His long, lean legs kept at a constant motion, propelling him through the park on his morning run. It was his third lap around, and he still couldn’t focus. His eyes drifted over to the bench where you sat, thumbing through a new script. A small grin found his lips as he gave you a good once-over. Your knees were pulled up towards your chest, with the script resting on your thighs, and a large cup of coffee in your hand. His sunglasses covered your eyes. _His. No one else’s. His._ The baseball cap seated over your ponytail was his too.

But Sebastian’s blood ran cold as he saw a man sit next to you on the bench. The man started talking to you animatedly, using a lot of hand gestures. You smiled politely, acknowledging his attempts at conversation, though you knew it was just another rouse to hit on you. It happened so much since you’d started acting, much to Sebastian’s dismay. A familiar heat flared up in the pit of Sebastian's stomach, and he just about lost it then and there.

His anger fueled his legs, pushing him harder to get to you. He slowed to a brisk walk once he was close enough to hear the man talking.

“You know, if you’re free, I’d love to take you out for drinks sometime…” He heard the man’s voice trailing off hopefully. The man reached over, setting his palm on your knee. His fingers moved back towards your thigh as you shook your head, reaching to push his hand away, trying to say something, but Sebastian interrupted.

“How about you get your hand off my girlfriend, and I won’t fucking break it,” he hissed through clenched teeth. You looked up at him, he was seething. Positively irate, and his hands were clenched tightly into fists. Sebastian’s chest was heaving slightly, and he pushed his shoulders back, staring down the man next to you.

The man’s hand slid slowly off your leg, intentionally taking his time. He stood up, taking a few steps towards Sebastian. Seb crossed his arms. Your brows furrowed as you stuffed the script back in your bag, tossing you empty cup in the trash. You stood, approaching Sebastian’s side, and placed your hand on his back.

“Seb, let’s just go…” you muttered. His arm automatically found its way to your waist, gripping your hip possessively.

“Not yet, sweetheart. I think he owes you an apology.” You’d never seen this fire in his eyes before, and honestly, it was kind of a turn on. But still, you shook your head again, tugged his shirt. He looked at you with what could only be described as pure resentment for this other guy. Finally, after a few seconds of looking at you, his face softened, but his grip remained tight. He took the hint, and grabbed your bag for you off the bench. Sebastian spun on his heel and walked away, pulling you with him, but not before shooting a murderous glare over his shoulder. He leaned down, kissing the top of your head.

 

*

Sebastian slammed the door to his apartment behind him. You gave him an aggravated look. He took only one glance at you, and knew exactly what you were thinking.

"Seriously, Seb? This has got to stop."

“You’re too fucking beautiful, you know that? They can’t help themselves. They all want a taste, and I can’t fucking stand it.” His voice was dark. His fingers ran through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. You crossed your arms, maintaining eye contact. The tension in the air was too thick to ignore, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room.

The pair of you stared each other down for a moment, before Sebastian crossed the room in only a few short strides, pinning you against the wall. One of his hands came to rest on your cheek, while the other snaked its way down to your hip again. His lips found yours aggressively, working in a slow but desperate pattern. Nipping at your lower lip, he pressed his entire body into yours. You reacted exactly how he wanted you to, by pushing your lips up into his harder. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you couldn’t help but tug on it. His lips didn’t leave yours.

He growled your name in a hushed tone. “Bedroom. Now."

"Seb, I-"

"No excuses. Now."


	8. See U In The Dark - Sebastian Stan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song See U In The Dark by Honor Society.

_“So, I like this girl, and I think she likes me, but her brother always threatens to kick my ass if I talk to her… What do I do?” Sebastian asked you, jumping up to sit on the counter._

_“Seb…” you started._

_“No, seriously. Come on. I can’t ask any other girls for advice on girls. You’re my best friend! Help me out here!”He pleaded, swinging his legs into the cabinets._

_“Sebastian! You’re 14 years old. I’m not always gonna be next door to give you advice,” you chastised, looking at him over your glass of water. He chuckled and jumped down, wrapping you in a tight hug._

_“’Course not! But you’ll always be my best friend.”_

_*_

_“I swear to God, if you don’t ask her out, I’m going to!” Alex muttered to Sebastian. You were sitting a table away in the cafeteria, and they’d both assumed you couldn’t hear their conversation. But to Alex, a yell was practically a whisper. You didn’t lift your eyes from your lunch, and neither of them seemed to know._

_“You know I don’t feel that way about her, man. She’s my best friend,” Sebastian replied, pushing his vegetables around with his fork. This seemed to be a weekly thing with Sebastian’s other friends. They’d tell him how hot they thought you were, he’d deny it; he’d tell them he didn’t see you like that._

_“Baz, you’re 17! We’re graduating soon, and smokin’ hot girls like that aren’t friends with guys like us for no reason.” Sebastian lifted his fork again, jabbing Alex with it. He let out a little yelp, making you look up. Seb just shot you a mischievous grin and a wink._

_*_

_You stood poolside, watching all the obnoxious guys from the neighborhood try to impress the girls with stupid stunts, like cannonballs and really bad tricks. You were too busy focusing on the conversation with your neighbor, Melissa, to care._

_“So, what’s the deal with you two? Like, is he gay? Or are you two secretly fucking?” She was so nosy when it came to Sebastian._

_“Mel, come on. He’s my best friend. That’s it. Not gay, not fucking, just best friends.”_

_She shook her head, peering over your shoulder._

_“Well, your ‘just best friend’ is kinda checking you out right now,” she giggled, looking back to you. You were suddenly incredibly self-conscious about the fact that you were in a bikini._

_“No, he’s not. Come on, Melissa. We’re 26. If he had those kind of feelings towards me, he would’ve told me by now.” Melissa just rolled her eyes and pushed your shoulder, making you laugh a bit._

_“I guess you’re right.”_

_*_

“Can you hand me the hammer, Seb?” You called down the hall. Hurriedly, he stepped out of the bedroom, hammer in hand. The handle slid into your hand and you centered the nail right where you wanted it. Three taps was enough to get it situated, and you realized Sebastian’s hands were gripping your hips, helping to keep you steady on the step ladder.

“I can’t believe that this place is all yours. I can’t believe we’ll be living this far apart for the first time in 20 years…” He shook his head, almost sounding disappointed.

“C-Can you hand me that big frame down there?” The sudden acknowledgement of his grip caught you by surprise, to say the least.

He handed you the frame. Behind the glass was a collage of pictures of the two of you, something Sebastian’s mother made for you when you graduated from college. Seb chuckled as you hung it on the nail and stepped off the little ladder, making sure it was straight.

“Can’t believe you kept this thing for so long,” he crowed, shaking his head. You smacked his arm.

“First of all, I’m 32. Not 75. I’ve only had this for a few years. Second, why wouldn’t I keep it? It’s full of fantastic memories and it’s from your mom. You know I absolutely adore her… and her cooking,” you replied with a bigger grin. He rolled his eyes, sliding in behind you.

“I think it needs to go just a little bit more to the left,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around your hips. You nodded a bit, trying to step forward. Sebastian tightened his grip, pulling you back fast to his chest.

“Look at me,” he whispered into your neck. A foreign look appeared in his blue eyes. His blown out pupils left just a thin rim of that beautiful blue around the edges. The stare he was giving you darted from your eyes to your lips, and he closed the small gap.

The feeling of his lips on yours was almost a bolt from the blue in itself. He kept the kiss intense and passionate, but there was a sense of desperation behind it too. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you knew what he wanted.

*

It was around 3 am when you woke up. Dried sweat matted your hair to your forehead, and there was another body in your bed. It took a moment, but the briefly lost memory resurfaced. Sebastian was lying beside you, both of you stripped completely naked. Clothes were strewn about the room.

The moonlight peeked through the window, illuminating a small strip of the room. You reminded yourself to pick up curtains for the bedroom the next time you went out. Sliding out of bed, your bare feet hit the cold hardwood. You padded to the kitchen, getting a glass of water.

Once finished, you headed back to the bedroom to find Sebastian wide awake. He was reclined on the pillows with his palms tucked behind his head. He gave you that perfect smile of his, causing multiple creases in the outer corners of his eyes.

“You know, you’re even more beautiful in the dark,” he offered. You snorted, crossing your arms over your bare chest.

“Gee, Seb. Thanks.” He chortled, rolling his eyes.

“I just meant that there’s something different about seeing you in nothing but the light of the moon. Something I think I’d like to see more often, by the way.” You cocked an eyebrow, taking a few more steps towards your side of the bed. “Nope. Stop.”

“Seba-“

“Right there. Not one more step. Don’t come back to bed yet, baby.” He slid the sheet back and stood up, approaching you slowly. He placed a soft, quick kiss on your shoulder, tracing your hip with one hand. You pulled him in a little closer and he whispered against your lips.

“Nothing but the moonlight. I like that best on you.”


	9. Adorable - Sebastian Stan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Adorable by Artist vs. Poet
> 
> 1.) Rough translation: I'm so sorry.  
> 2.) Rough translation: Oh my god.

“Seriously, though! He’s such an ass. I’ve never been anything but nice to him, and he’s just a dick,” you griped to your make-up artist, Kelly. She sighed and gave you a stern look.

“Christ, girl. You need to quit movin’! You’re wigglin’ more than a chick in an LMFAO video!”

You gave her a small laugh as she directed your eyes up to the ceiling. Your chin stayed at her level. She pulled the outer corner of your eye tight and ran her angled brush along your lower lash line.

“Really, Kel. How does someone who seems so sweet turn out to be such a douche?” Kelly shook her head, tossing her pale pink waves around.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever heard complain about him, doll. He’s never been any trouble to me or nothin’.” She pulled away, allowing you to redirect your gaze back to her hazel eyes. Her back turned for only a mere moment, and she reeled back around, draping a large white sheet over your wardrobe. In her hands were a large kabuki brush and a small plastic pot. She ordered you to close your eyes, and you complied. She dusted the translucent powder from the jar across your face, sealing in her flawless application.

“He’s just an ass,” you mutter to her as she pulls the sheet off. Hurriedly, she folds it back up and drops it on the counter.

“Relax, darlin’. You’ve only got another month of filmin’, a short press tour, and the premiere left. You don’t gotta see him much longer.” Her smile is reassuring, but you scoff.

“Kelly, please… Another month of filming, which consists of being here at five in the morning and not leaving until around ten or eleven at night, six weeks of press promos, and people are bound to want us to pose together for pictures as the premiere. I’m nowhere near done with this son of a bitch. If he keeps this up, he’ll be lucky to still be alive at the end of this.”

It was Kelly’s turn to laugh now. Her eyes roamed your outfit as she spoke, looking for any hint of loose powder on your clothes.

“Listen, hun, you can do this. Don’t speak to him unless you have to; pretend you don’t hate him for interviews, give ‘em a handful of pictures, and get on with your life. Simple as that! If you don’t think you can handle him anymore, call me. If you’re gonna kill him, call me.”

“God, Kelly… What would I do without a saint like you?” you asked with a smirk. She wrapped you in a quick, tight hug, giving you a little squeeze.

“Dunno, dear. Might just lie down and die!” She winked, nudging you towards the door. “Get outta here. Filmin’ starts in fifteen and you can’t be late!”

Your fingers curled in a slight wave and she blew you a kiss as you exited the make-up trailer, heading to your filming lot.

It was a decent walk, considering make-up was on Lot 7, wardrobe and costuming was on Lot 5, and you had to make your way over to Lot 2.

Once you made it across Lot 4, you looked at your watch. _5:51 am._ The coffee clutched in your hand was heating up your palm through the cup with ease, reminding you just how hot it was. The sun was still hidden below the horizon, and you didn’t see anyone around until you were halfway across Lot 3. A lone man was crossing the wide open lane down the center of the lot, pulling a large cart of props behind him. You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket, and you stopped momentarily to see what it was.

**1 Unread Text Message**

You tapped the ‘view’ button.

**From: Kelly**

**Wanna have lunch tomorrow? xx**

You hit ‘reply’ and began to compose your message. You’d barely typed out the first word when someone shoulder checked you. The lid popped off the top of your drink, sending scalding hot coffee cascading down the front of your shirt. A mild shriek of both pain and surprise escaped your throat, and the man who bumped you stopped less than three steps ahead of you. Strings of profuse apologies poured from his mouth, but it stopped as soon as he saw who he’d hit.

The haughty bastard in front of you had a hand tangled in his unruly dark mop. The black core of his pale blue eyes was dilated wide in panic and surprise. A trio of creases formed across his forehead as he furrowed his brows. His hands came out in front of him, palms facing towards you.

You pulled the soaked shirt away from your body as fast as you could, but the damage was already done.

And, as if things weren’t bad enough, you hear Sebastian start laughing. He only spits out your last name and a half-assed apology.

“Looks like you may need a new shirt! Might wanna run, since we only have four minutes before we start,” he managed. Your lack of patience skyrocketed, your blood boiled, and for a minute, you completely lost it. The now empty cup flew from your hand in his general direction. You furiously pulled the coffee stained shirt of over your head and chucked that at him too.

“What the fuck is your problem, Stan?” You yelled, arms spread wide like you were daring him to answer you. His face went blank, and then shifted to a slight frown. “Is this fucking funny to you? Jesus Chris! What the fuck did I do to you?” He stayed silent, his eyes trailing across the top hem of your bra before meeting the cement under your feet.

“You know what? Fuck you, Sebastian. I’m done with this shit…” His mouth dropped slightly, parting his lips. You hadn’t called him by his first name since you sat down at the first table read and tried to introduce yourself. He talked to you about as much that first day as he was at that current moment.

You shook your head, already feeling minor blisters beginning to form down the middle portion of your torso. Turning on your heel, you stormed off, heading all the way back to Lot 5. Annoyed, almost in angry tears, and wearing a soaking wet bra, you can feel his eyes on you until you’re too far away from him.

 

*

 

Following the coffee incident, which left you with mild second degree burns, you were slathered up with silvadene to combat the pain and wrapped in gauze to prevent any possible infection. Your scenes for the day were cancelled, seeming as half the shots they wanted involved you being topless. So the director called it a day around nine in the evening and sent you home.

You were exhausted, sore, hungry, and frankly, still pissed.

Your phone buzzed in one hand, and you set down the small pint of ice cream in your other.

**1 Unread Text Message**

**From: Unknown Number**

**Hey. It’s Sebastian. I got your number from Kelly. Creepy, I know, but I wanted to apologize for everything.**

You rolled your eyes and prodded the ‘reply’ box.

**To: Unknown Number**

**Don’t worry about it.**

It only took him a minute to reply.

**From: Unknown Number**

**I’m trying to say I’m sorry. Not just for the incident this morning, but for everything. It’d be a lot easier for me to apologize right if you’d just open the door.**

You raised an eyebrow, reading and rereading the text. _What is he talking about?_

The sudden sound of sturdy knuckles rapping on your front door drew your eyes from your phone. You ambled to it, sliding the chain lock out of its place. Outside stood Sebastian. Sebastian, a huge bouquet of flowers, and a plastic sack. He gave you a small smile, letting the tip of his tongue dart out over his lower lip. He retracted it and caught his lower lip between his teeth. You stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. He complied and you closed the door behind him, sliding the lock back into place.

Without a word, he guided himself into the kitchen. You followed, confused.

“You got a vase?” he called over his shoulder, setting the bag down on the counter.

“Yeah. Should be one under the sink.” Your response was stiff and curt. He sighed and crouched down, opening the cabinet. Sebastian grabbed the biggest vase he could find. Filling it halfway with water from the tap, he set it down, the glass making a light clink against the marble countertop.

“Scissors?” His voice was friendly. You reached for the silverware drawer and pulled out a pair, offering them to him by the handle. He gave you a soft smile.

“Thanks for not stabbing me with them… Even though I probably deserve it.” This pulled a small smile out of you. He cut the loose plastic off the flowers and trimmed the stems at an angle, which, you assumed, he learned from his mother. Every single flower was put in the vase individually, and Sebastian took care to arrange them perfectly for you. You leaned against the counter, watching him.

He looked over at you and a small laugh got stuck in his throat. You tilted your head slightly, shooting him a quizzical look.

“Nothing,” he said, smile growing. He reached for the bag beside you on the counter, and when he grabbed it, his calloused fingertips brushed your arm. A sharp chill ran up your spine, setting a raised texture across your skin.

The top of the bag crinkled when he opened it, pulling out something fluffy. He placed it in your hands, and it was an absolutely adorable teddy bear, with white fur and a pink bow tied around its neck.

“Sebastian…” you finally mumbled, looking up. He was standing less than a foot away from you. He put a finger to his lips, hushing you.

“Don’t… Please, just listen.” You nodded, keeping eye contact.

“Îmi pare atât de rău1.” His Romanian accent was coming through strong, though you’d never heard it in his voice before. “I’m such an idiot. I just… You make me nervous. You make me anxious as hell. I’ve never met a woman who’s had that kinda effect on me. I guess I just didn’t know how to handle it, and everything I said came out wrong, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And this…” He ran his fingers over the outside of your shirt, touching the bandages. “I was in such a hurry this morning, and I didn’t see you. I wasn’t looking and, oh, doamne2, I felt so bad. I still feel bad. I didn’t mean to, I just-“

You silenced him by pressing your lips to his, softly and slowly. His mouth twisted into a Cheshire cat grin, and you mimicked it, pressing your forehead to his.

“Can we start over?” you wondered aloud. He chuckled softly, giving you another quick, small kiss.

“Absolutely. Let me make this up to you.”


	10. Fresh - Sebastian Stan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Fresh by Artist Vs Poet.  
> Short af, I know. When I find the inspiration, I'll re-write the ending.
> 
> <3

After parties were definitely not your thing, especially after an awards show. You tended to avoid them as much as possible. No way were you gonna be out in those ridiculous stiletto heels until four or five in the morning, only to stumble back to your hotel completely shit faced. Not. Gonna. Happen. Or so you told yourself.

Somehow or another, though, you ended up there.

There were so many flashing lights. Between the camera flashes outside and the strobe lights inside, you had little white spots in your vision. Your best friend, Scarlett, had almost a death grip on your hand, and you could only assume it was hard for her to see at the moment too.

“I promise I won’t make you stay all night,” she laughed, leaning away from your ear. “Just a few drinks, a little dancing, you know, _fun_ , and then we’ll go. Deal?”

You nodded, holding out your pinky. She locked hers around it, and you both kissed your thumbs. It was something the two of you had started doing when you became friends in kindergarten, and it had persisted for more than two decades.

“You’ve got a deal, Johansson.”

“Perfect!” she replied, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “I’m gonna go talk to Chris really quick, but I’ll be right back, okay?”

Again, you nodded, and watched her saunter off through the crowd. You settled on a stool by the bar, eyeing the collection of bottles lined up against the wall.

“What can I getcha, beautiful?” The bartender approached you, drumming his fingertips against the glass. You shot him a kind smile, asking for round of Lemon Drop shots. He turned around, gathering up the bottles of Vodka, Triple Sec, and lemon juice, and lined out six shot glasses. All liquids were throwing into a mixer, and he shook it fiercely in one hand while using the other to drop a sugar cube in the bottom of each glass.

It only took him a few more seconds to finish, and he moved them towards you in pairs. Scarlett rested her hand on your shoulder, to your surprise, saying she wanted you to meet some friends of hers. You spun around on the stool, coming face to face with a sea of blue eyes.

“This is Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Jeremy, and Sebastian,” she chirped, pointing each of them out to you. You took the liberty of introducing yourself, shaking the hand of each man in succession.

“Wonderful to finally meet you guys,” you insisted. “Really. I’ve heard nothing but great things about you!” A chorus of thanks echoed through the pack, and Sebastian threaded a hand through his shaggy hair.

“Hopefully nothing embarrassing,” Jeremy added, thumbing his chin. You shook your head gently, giving him a reassuring grin.

The former song faded out, and with the intro of the new one, Scarlett’s eyes went wide.

“Our song!” she yelled, grabbing your hand. The pair of you shared a pause to down a shot each, and you told the guys to help themselves as Scarlett pulled you off to dance with her.

 

*

 

As promised, you had a few drinks, did some dancing, and were having way too much fun.

You’d taken a shine to Sebastian, and he to you. While everyone else was doing their own thing, he was practically glued to your hip. Or rather, his hand was. He’d taken every possible opportunity to dance with you, buy you drinks, and just chat in general.

As the song was winding down, your backside was pressed up against Sebastian’s front. Your shoulders were firm against his chest, with your ass pressed to his pelvis. His hands were planted on the front of your hips, and your arms were draped backwards around his neck. The beat dictated your movements, but Sebastian refused to let you do anything but grind on him at this point.

The rapid pace of the music diminished into a slow tune, and you pulled Sebastian back towards the bar. You were both pretty tipsy at this point, and Scarlett was already well aware that your deal had been mutually extended.

Sebastian’s hands didn’t leave your hips. He followed closely behind you, not ready or willing to let go.

You ordered two more shots, and as soon as they were delivered, they were tossed back. Sebastian peppered hot kisses up the side of your neck, only pausing to flick the shell of your ear with his tongue.

“Let’s get out of here.” His voice was husky, dripping with lust. You cocked an eyebrow, gesturing the bartender for another shot. He took the opportunity to grind into you a little, giving you a preview of just how badly he _did_ want to take you home. A smile appeared on your face, and you gave him a sideways glance. There was no way you were about to tell him no.

Sebastian leaned in further, giving your earlobe a quick nip. His heated, labored breath collided with your skin, shooting a shiver up your spine.

“I’m willing to bet that I’m the best you’ve never had. Care to find out?” You downed the shot and nodded.


	11. Waiting - Sebastian Stan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Waiting by Breathe Carolina.

Bodies were packed front to back, all grinding and swaying. Limbs flew and colors all faded together. The scent of sweat clung to the air like a wet napkin to a countertop. The bounce of the bass reverberated off the walls, casting it directly back at the speakers pumping it out. Light flashed at a blinding pace, almost as if their sole purpose was to disorient and confuse. Mix that all with alcohol, and the crowd was a blurry mess. At the edge of the masses stood a man with one hand stuffed in the front pocket of his jeans.

There was a slight sway to his hips, though not enough to be considered dancing by any means. You could swear that this man was half legs. They seemed to go on for miles, clad in a pair of skin-tight jeans. Denim clung to his shapely legs like a second skin. The worn leather boots on his feet were laced up tight, but any sound they could’ve possibly made was drowned out by the music. Over his grey v-neck, he wore a black leather jacket, and Jesus _fucking_ Christ, was it painted on?

Coupling with his striking physique was an enticing smirk, reaching his wandering eyes. The creases in the outer corners of his eyes deepened whenever he let that grin grow or laughed. Every movement showed off his cheekbones, structured better than even the greatest of the world’s architecture, only potentially rivaled by the cut of his jaw.

When he made eye contact with you, he sized you up, letting his gaze run over every inch of your body. His stare returned to yours. The tip of his tongue flickered over his upper lip, but was quickly retracted in favor of biting down on his lower lip instead. A coy wink was aimed at you, and you returned the sentiment with a flirtatious smile and one eyebrow arched.

Despite the distraction, you continued to move. The rhythm dictated the pace of your sway, as well as the hands resting on your waist. Your hips were pulled flush with those of the woman dancing behind you. Lacy was her name, your roommate.

When you were absolutely sure you had his undivided attention, you tilted your head back, letting it rest on her shoulder. Her hands slid up to rest on your rib cage, and you tangled yours in her hair. Using only your eyes, you directed her to the object of your sudden enthusiasm. She grinned and leaned forward. She nipped at your lower lip, but you maintained eye contact with him. The way his lips parted, the look of anticipation on his face, that was all you needed to see, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him.

As the song began to fade, he grabbed a glass from one of the men flanking him, took a swig, and shoved it back to the guy on his left. They grinned at each other, and he began to make his way over to you. You, however, grabbed Lacy’s hand, starting to pull her out of the crowd.

“Let’s go get a drink!” you called over the noise. She looked up to where he once stood and, seeing he was no longer there, she quickly nodded. The people blocking the aisles parted easily enough, allowing the pair of you to push through. Two seats at the far edge of the counter opened up, and you took them graciously. The bartender took your drink orders and delivered them quickly. They went down smoothly amidst your conversation with Lacy. Before too long, the bartender brought you two fresh glasses.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we didn’t order these,” you insisted, exchanging glanced with Lacy. The bartender gestured to the other end of the counter.

“Courtesy of the gentlemen over there, ladies,” he replied. At the other side sat two of the three men you’d spotted earlier. The one you’d had your eye on was wearing a seductive smirk, with the center of his lip pulled between his teeth. He raised his eyebrows suggestively. You brought the glass up in a salute and shot him a wink before taking a sip. Lacy nudged your knee with her knuckles below the counter.

“Go talk to him,” she whispered in your ear. From the corner of your eye, you looked at her, then back at him. His eyes were zeroed in on you, like a hawk. The man on his right was yapping a million miles per hour, but he wasn’t paying attention to him. Clearly, he was preoccupied.

You stood up, leaving your drink on the counter. His face dropped a little bit, but his eyes were filled with curiosity. The crowd separating you from him had thinned a bit, but not enough for him to see you navigating towards him. In fact, when you managed to reach him, he was still zoned out on the empty seat beside Lacy. You put a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, placing your lips right beside his ear.

“Thanks for the drink.” He seemed to jump a bit at your presence, but eased up when he realized it had to be you.

“I don’t think the most stunning woman in the room should be buying her own drinks,” he quipped, turning around on the stool. “But I don’t think the most stunning woman in the room should be sitting by anyone but me, either. Name’s Sebastian.”

He held his hand out to you, allowing his eyes to sweep your entire form once again. There was an animalistic hunger in his expression. You replied in kind with your name, placing your fingers in his. Ever the suave gesture, he brought you hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle teasingly.

“Beautiful name, beautiful girl, not that I expected anything less.” Oh man… This guy sure was a sweet-talker. He continued to hold onto your hand, stroking his thumb over the back. You wedged your hips between his knees, and, feeling rather bold, leaned in again. Pausing just centimeters from his lips, the warmth of his shallow breaths washed over your own lips. You bit the inside of your lip, watching his eyes slide down to your mouth.

“Look, you’ve been eye-fucking me all night. And as much as I enjoy that, I’d rather we get out of here. Sound good?” He turned to look at his friends, who both gave him reassuring emphatic nods. Sebastian slapped a twenty on the counter and stood, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

“Lead the way, then.”


	12. I Do - Tom Hiddleston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song I Do (Cherish You) by 98 Degrees  
> Update 3/15/2015: Minor adjustments made

Chaos. That was the only word to describe it, really. Insanity or pandemonium didn’t quite seem to fit it right.

There were people everywhere, all rushing around, trying to get chairs set out and streamers hung. People were running into each other, offering a small stream of apologies before being whisked away by the thought of completing their task. A small group of children, undoubtedly belonging to the small typhoon of people, were chasing each other around the tables, squealing and squawking, in what you could only assume was a game of tag.

A familiar pair of slender, strong arms found your hips, encircling them tenderly. Immediately, a mile-wide smile found your lips, and your hands make their way to rest on top of the other pair. Neither of you dared to speak a word, so you just swayed back and forth for what seemed like an eternity. His chin found the crook of your neck, and his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, leaving behind a welcomed tingle. Even after all these years, he still set loose the feeling of rampant butterflies weaving their way through your abdomen.

You reached up over your shoulder, threading your fingers through his soft, loose curls.

“I love you,” Tom whispered in your ear. You turned your eyes to his, daring yourself to smile wider. “Just think,” he continued. “In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be officially and legally my wife. In less than twenty-four hours, we’ll be on a plane out of here for seven days of incessant shenanigans.” His ensuing chuckle reverberated deep in your chest. For a simple enough reason, you couldn’t wipe the Cheshire cat beam off your face. "And then, we begin the process of me loving and cherishing you every day for the rest of our lives."

"And you haven't for the last four years?" you jested, challenging him.

His orbs of soft azure bore into your own eyes. A deep breath filled your lungs, as Tom kissed your temple. You exhaled slowly, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Oh, darling, you know I have," he muttered, leaving small nips and kisses behind your ear. "Now I just get a contract of permanence."

Another comforting silence filled the air before Diana, Tom’s mother, plaited her way through the children playing and the small zoo of others helping prepare the site for the wedding. She called your name, waving her hand towards you.

“Dear, Emma and I are off to get a few things. Do you need anything?” she inquired, as her son disentangled himself from you. A softer, kind smile graced your lips.

“I think the only thing left on my list is picking up my dress from the tailor,” you replied simply. Diana thrust her hand out.

“Just give me the ticket, and I’ll take care of it.” Her voice was as insistent as the smile on her face.

“Are… Are you sure? It’s on the way home. Tom and I can-“

“Nonsense. Thomas is not allowed to even so much as be in the same building as that dress until tomorrow,” she cut you off, shooting Tom a playful glare. You both knew she wasn’t going to relent, so you fished the tag out of your purse, placing it in her hand. Hastily, she gave you both a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried off, Emma, Tom’s younger sister, in tow.

“This is pure madness,” Tom muttered, his fingertips brushing yours gently. You gave him a gentle hum of agreement, and laced your fingers between his.

“But it’s worth it, all of it.”

 

*

 

Diana and Emma stood in front of you, utterly speechless. Sarah, Tom’s older sister, stood behind you, tying off the laces on the back of your dress. Matching smiles decorated the three women, all bearing a striking resemblance to Tom.

Your palms spread nervously across the fabric at your stomach, and you inhaled sharply. Sarah took a step back, admiring her handiwork. She then crossed in front of you, pushing a straying strand of hair behind your ear.

“Mum, he’s gonna cry. I just know it,” she chided, looking you in the eye. For the first time since the preparation process began, you cracked a smile. The ruby red hue of your lips curled into a look of exhilaration, leaving a sliver of white showing between your lips.

“There's just one thing missing,” Emma reminded. She produced a small, velvet box with a blue tint. Cracking the box open, you heard a small gasp as you eyed the trio. It took a moment, but you realized the gasp had come from you. Inside the box was a necklace. A sapphire rested in the middle of the silver frame, with small diamonds around the outside. Your hands flew to your mouth and your eyes filled with tears.

“It… It’s beautiful,” was all you could manage. Emma took it from the box, making quick work of fastening it around your neck.

“You had all but something blue, dear,” Diana said softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “Come now, don’t mess up your make up.” You wrapped your arms around her, and she reciprocated.

“Couldn’t have asked for a better woman for my son,” she cooed, releasing you. One last sincere smile crossed her lip as she slipped out the door to take her seat. Emma and Sarah both took a lengthy hug from you before mimicking their mother’s departure. You turned to the mirror, smoothing out the waistline of your dress. A sharp knock pulled you from your thoughts as you muttered a quick affirmative.

“Ready, sweetie?” your father called through the door. You gave him a short ‘yes’ and slipped into your heels. The door swung open and he entered, already in tears. He gave a short speech to you about how beautiful you looked, how proud he was, and how he was honored to have Tom join the family. It took a lot of fight to hold back tears, but you managed, now finding your hand looped over his elbow, standing at the back of the aisle.

The bridal march began, and that visibly caught Tom’s attention, diverting him from the pastor at his side. His eyes drifted to the center row, then locked on you. A rosy blush crept across your cheeks and you looked down for a second.

When your gaze returned to him, he was still staring, with his fingers laced together and both fists covering most of his mouth. His smirk was too big to be covered merely by his hands. The sound of Sarah’s sharp snicker, followed by “told you so!” drew your eyes to his. Tears peppered his cheeks as he laughed heartily. Pure ecstasy radiated from him as you and your father reached him. He held out both of his hands, waiting patiently for your father to pass you off. Your palms settled into his like a pair of puzzle pieces. Your father kissed your head, giving Tom a quick grin.

“Oh God,” Tom’s voice hitched slightly. “You look so… I can’t even describe it. More than radiance, more than beauty, more than extravagant or exquisite could even begin to cover.”

You gave him a good sizing up.

“I could say quite the same for you, Mr. Hiddleston,” you quipped. He sniggered briefly, pulling you to stand in front of him. You squeezed his hands as the pastor began to speak.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”


	13. Dance With Me Tonight - Tom Hiddleston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Dance With Me Tonight by Olly Murs.

You swirled the small glass of water in your hand, the ice cubes clinking against the sides. Your friends were lost in the sea of people ahead on the large dance floor, and you, of course, got sucked into being their designated driver.

The sound of the bass reverberated in your skull, as your fingernails unconsciously tapped the beat on your glass. Leaning against the bar, you pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes. This was absolutely typical with these friends of yours. Sometimes it seemed like they only kept you around to take care of their drunk asses after a night of partying.

Your free set of fingers traces the outline of your car keys in your pocket. _Maybe I can slip out of here unnoticed._

A sudden voice cut through the thumping of the music. It was thick with curiosity and flecked with slight concern.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” With the voice came a British accent that caused you to look up, dropping your hand from your face. Your eyes met a set of soft blue ones, accompanied by a sandy mop of curls and a mile-wide, million dollar smile. A breath hitched in your throat, and you felt like you were choking for a second. The man in beside you chuckled at your lack of response, almost as if he’d mistaken your awe for apprehension.

“Don’t worry, love,” he began. “I’m not going to bite.” A small smirk chiseled itself across your lips.

“Not even if I want you to?” you quipped without consideration. A look of sheer surprise illuminated his features, lending a vibrant rosy glow to his cheeks. You covered your mouth quickly, muttering your sincerest apologies, insisting that you should learn how to think before you speak. His mouth contorted back into that grin.

“If you asked nicely, I suppose I might.” He thrust his hand in front of you, letting out another breathy chuckle. “I’m Tom, by the way.”

You took his hand in a firm grip, but shook it timidly, responding curtly with your name. He pulled your hand to his lips, leaving an airy kiss on your knuckles.

“Surely a beauty like you isn’t here alone.” The inflection in his voice was questioning, his eyes almost pleading you to disagree. The heat of his breath ghosted over the back of your hand, sending a chill up your spine. You slid your hand out of his, letting him sweat for a second. A mouthful of water found its way down the back of your throat, and you set your glass back on the counter. Courage coursed through your body, causing your feet to find the floor.

“I’m not anymore.” You grabbed Tom’s hand, pulling him close. His smile went from just that to an effervescent beam. His head moved to your ear, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper.

“Dance with me tonight.”

 

*

 

The arches of your feet ached, and your stomach was twisted into knots. All the laughing and dancing with Tom had started to wear on you. He’d maintained physical contact the whole time, and as the song faded into a slow beat, he made no exception.

Tom’s right hand searched out the natural curve of your waist, and he pulled your body flush to his. The right side of your head found his shoulder as his left hand took yours. The pair of you swayed to the mellow song, and you were grateful for the first slow dance of the night with him.

He leaned down, his voice in a soft murmur, barely audible over the music.

“I’ve had so much fun this evening.” The smile that hadn’t left your face grew exponentially and you looked up at him. Even in heels, he was still a good head taller than you.

His bright eyes wore an invigorating, inviting intensity, sending a familiar cherry glow creeping across your cheeks. You buried your face back in his shoulder, laughing lightly.

“You know, I saw you sitting up there by yourself, and I just got a good feeling. It’s really been a fantastic night, and I feel like I need to ask… Would you like to see me again? After tonight?”

You nodded, and his grip on your hand tightened for a second, before his body entirely vacated yours. The hand on your shoulder told you it wasn’t by his choice. Your head turned, spotting two of the “friends” you’d come in with.

“We’re ready to go!” one chided. _Kristen, not now._ You groaned internally, shaking her off your shoulder. Clearly, she was completely shit-faced. They both were, really. The girl next to her, Kathryn, tapped her foot impatiently.

“Then go. I’m going to stay longer.” Your response was calm and collected. The pair looked at each other with astonishment, and Tom’s hands both found the belt loops of your jeans again.

“She’s still got some dancing to do.”


	14. Sing To Me - Tom Hiddleston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Sing To Me by Before Their Eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Tom… I miss you so much,” you whispered, watching his face fall into a look of concern on the screen. Tom was away filming, leaving you at home with your swollen seven-month-pregnant stomach.

“I know, darling. I miss you too. Just a few more weeks, and I’ll be home,” he answered. He reached forward, like he was trying to touch you, but you both knew it wouldn’t exactly work. You were silent for a moment, trying to fight back the tears.

“Darling?” You looked back to the computer screen, seeing a huge grin plastered across his face.

“Yes?”

“Can I see it again? Please?” You sighed, running your fingers over your bump. “Please, love. I haven’t gotten to touch it in a few months, I haven’t gotten to feel the kicks, you haven’t even told me the gender yet!”

“You said you didn’t want to know, Thomas,” you groaned. Your arms found support on the sides of the chair and you pushed yourself to your feet, giving Tom a good side view of how much larger you’d gotten in his time away. He let a low whistle of appreciation slip.

“I see the baby isn’t the only thing growing, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You knew exactly what he was referring to, and all you could offer was a smile and a playful eye roll. Tom’s signature chuckle rolled off his lips as he pressed his tongue behind his teeth. With a quiet moment to spare, you took in his features. The features that you had the privilege of waking up next to every morning when he was home.

His eyes seemed ever changing, shifting between shades of blue, green, and grey, depending on the lighting he was in. It was like every emotion Tom was capable of was visible just from his kind eyes alone. But when he did emote with his whole face, there were two pairs of creases that ran from side to side, all equal in length. The ends of the lines left a small gap before another set began. The second set started at the corners of his eyes, branching out. They were short and defined, and they were perfect on him.

His high cheekbones made his face appear longer, more slender, and the apples of such were almost always dusted with a soft rose color, making them stand out a bit more against his pallor. The bridge of his nose followed a straight line down to the tip, where it tapered off evenly. Just below his nose, the small groove above his upper lip was shallow and narrow, leading directly to the Cupid’s bow. His lips were thin, complimenting the wide angle of his jaw line.

But one of your favorites of his attributes was his hair. The way it turned to a wavy mess of curls when it got longer, or how he’d gripe and complain about having to color it for a role. Though he knew you thought every color looked like absolute perfection on him, he usually just did it to push your buttons. Yet another thing you absolutely adored about him.

“Oh goodness… Darling, it’s almost four in the morning there! Why didn’t you stop me? You need to get some sleep, love,” Tom groaned. You shook your head, giving him a soft smile.

“Tom, relax. I can’t sleep. I told you that earlier. Just not really tired, sweetheart. Not a big deal.” He gave you a quizzical look, pinching all those creases across his forehead. His brows furrowed for a moment, and he chewed at his lower lip.

“Did you try reading? Or a movie? How about some tea?” You shot back your own questioning look.

“I have. All of the above, actually. It’s nothing to fret over, Tom, I’m just achy and hormonal,” you said softly, trying to be comforting. He let out a breathy sigh, running his calloused palm over his forehead.

“Is there anything I can do to help? I mean, it’s only a few minutes after nine here, so I’ve got more time to spare.” You cringed a little when the baby kicked, and Tom shifted into protection mode. “What is it? Are you okay? Cramps or contractions? Is it the baby? I-“

“Tom, it’s okay. He’s just kicking,” you interrupted, rubbing your stomach a little.

“Oh, thank God… That scared me. He’s just- Wait, he? _HE_? We’re having a boy?” You cursed under your breath, remembering that Tom had wanted to wait until you delivered to find out. _Oh well… Cat’s out of the bag now!_

“Oh my God… Oh wow… A son? Sweetheart, a son?” You nodded quickly, a massive smile capturing your lips. He gushed for a moment, babbling about how excited he was, how he was beyond ready to come home to his family. But suddenly, he stopped.

“I’m sorry, love. How rude of me. I asked you a question and didn’t let you answer! Please, is there anything I can do?”

“Well, you seem too excited to sleep now. You want to stay on a bit longer?” He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, darling, but you need sleep and I need to go on a rampage down the hall, screaming to the world that I will soon have a son,” he chortled. “So, anything?” Tom had a boundless energy about him, and you could tell he was anxious to go tell someone. Anyone, it didn’t really matter.

“Well, you could sing to me. To us.” He nodded fiercely, starting in with a low voice, and it wasn’t too long into his lullaby that you were ready to sleep.


	15. Photographs - Tom Hiddleston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Photographs by Rihanna and will.i.am.  
> <3

There was a damn good reason you stayed out of the attic at your mom’s house. That woman didn’t know how to throw things away, especially old pictures. There was an entire wall lined with shelves of photo albums. She called it “cherishing memories”; you called it an entire room of awful déjà vu. But in order to help her prepare for Thanksgiving, you unfortunately had to go up there. That’s how you found yourself in this mess of tears, laughs, anger, the whole nine.

You’d gotten distracted by the spine of one of the books. It was the only one without a label for its contents. That was incredibly unusual for your mother. She had to know what exactly was in which album. Never in your life had she left one without a label. That caught your attention, filling you with the worst kind of curiosity. So you grabbed it.

The picture in the first sleeve was an unbelievably old picture from a school dance. You were wearing a long blue dress that, looking back now, you realized was a horrendous choice. But you picked it for a reason. You recalled wanting to wear it because it matched your date’s eyes perfectly.

_“Oh my god, you look incredible!” Your date, Tom, had a certain enthusiasm about him. His cerulean eyes were glued to your dress, with his arms splayed out in front of him._

_“Thank you.” Your response was a bit shy, and a blush manifested itself on the apples of you cheeks. Sure, you’d been friends with Tom for several years, but you never though in a million years that he’d have asked you, of all people, to be his date for the dance. In fact, the day it was announced, he asked you. You’d never forget the look on his face when you hesitated. He looked so downtrodden and disappointed, but that all changed when you said yes._

_“Look, I’ve never done this before, so I’m probably going to muck it up, but do you- maybe- want to be my… Girlfriend?” His voice was almost as shaky as his hands. He had a nervous grin on his lips and a pink glow on his face._

_“Of course, Tom,” you answered almost immediately. He took your hand into his clammy one and led you inside._

You smiled, running your finger across the corner of the page. The picture itself was nearly twenty years old, but you still remembered the moment it was taken like it was yesterday. You flipped the page to see what else was inside and were greeted with another pair of pictures. The one on the left was of you and Tom just after graduation.

_Tom yanked you into his arms as gracelessly as possible. You staggered a bit, and your forehead collided with his bony sternum. Regardless, he picked you up and spun you around, his graduation gown puffing out behind him._

_“Can you believe this?” he muttered, kissing your forehead. He returned you to your feet and that magnificent grin of his made a home on his mouth. “Can you believe this is finally over? We made it, love.”_

_You laughed a little and rubbed the knot beginning to form. His eyes went wide with realization, and he leaned down to give it a small peck._

_“Sorry, darling. Guess I got a bit too excited.” He chuckled effortlessly as soon as he saw you crack a smile. Tom kept his arms wound around you and leaned just a little further down and give you a quick kiss on your lips. As soon as contact was made, there was a flash just out the corner of your eye. You pulled back to see your mother and his, both with their cameras in hand._

_“Oh, Linda, look at our babies,” Diana cooed, looking at you mother._

You’d ended up with a huge bump on your head after that. It was red for a bit, then began to turn purple. There were pictures of you with that knot in various other albums, considering how long it was there.

On the page on right, there was a picture from your older sister’s first wedding. You were 23 at the time, and you had been dating Tom for just about eight years.

_“I swear, if I had a ring and a pair, we’d get married right now,” Tom muttered, squeezing you hand. He knew this was the last place you wanted to be, considering he was off to film the following morning. You gave him a kind, forced smile._

_“Tom, you know as well as I do that wouldn’t be wise. You’ve got a career to focus on,” you sighed, patting the back of his hand._

_“So you think that means I don’t want to marry you?” His tone screamed disappointment, but his face was unreadable. You shook your head, turning in your seat to face him._

_“That’s not what I mean at all. I-“_

_“Then say what you mean. Don’t give me all this cryptic nonsense,” he snapped. You raised your eyebrows. Sure, you’d had your spats and lovers quarrels, but he’d never spoken to you like that. You pulled your hand out from under his and shoved your chair back. He kept his eyes trained straight forward while you stormed off._

_It took him almost an hour to finally seek you out, and when he finally did, he allowed his long legs to fold underneath him. He sat on the floor beside you, but you refused to look at him. Apparently feeling rather bold, he put his arm around you and kissed your temple._

_“I’m sorry I snapped, love. Really, I am. I should’ve let you explain. Can you ever forgive me?” You nodded, but still didn’t look at him. He thumbed your chin, forcing you to make eye contact._

_“I love you, darling, and I do want to marry you. We just have to wait until the right time.”_

That picture set your stomach on edge. The right time… Yeah, like that ever came. Every time you brought it up, he’d tell you it wasn’t the right time yet. After seventeen years, four apartments, a house, a child, and countless media attacks, one would think that it’d finally be the right fucking time.

You flipped through a few more pages and they were all photos of you and Tom. Pictures from the hospital when your son was born, birthdays, dates, premiers, on set pictures, weddings of other friends and family, and yet there was never a ring on your finger. You were definitely bitter, to put it mildly.

Finally, you slammed the album shut and shoved it back on the shelf. You grabbed the bags that your mother had sent you up after and jogged back down the stairs.

Your five year old son, James, was settled at the table. Your mother sat next to him, trying to keep him entertained. She looked up when you walked in and tossed the bag on the table.

“So, I found your album. You know, the unmarked one?” She looked down, probably hoping you’d never see it.

“It was meant to be a wedding present, dear. I-“

“Well, we didn’t get married, did we?” you quipped with an inward snort. “James, go grab your things, honey. Your father will be here soon.” James chirped in excitement and took off down the hall. He hadn’t seen Tom in over six months, due to his filming schedule.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re upset, but there’s no reason to get angry with me. I just never got around to tossing it out.” You sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just thought he was the one. Silly, isn’t it?” She shook her head.

“Not at all. We all thought he was the one for you.” Before she could continue much further, the doorbell rang.

You looked at your mother, silently begging her to answer it. She understood. You hadn’t seen Tom since the break-up, just over a year ago. Prior to his departure, your mother always took James to Tom’s house and Tom would bring him back when you were at work. It was an unspoken agreement that you wouldn’t have to see him. But Tom’s first day home happened to fall on _your_ holiday with James, and he’d insisted that he couldn’t wait another day to see his son.

“James, hun, let’s go,” you said softly, scooping him up. He had his backpack over his shoulders and a smile identical to Tom’s. You situated him on your hip, asking if he was going to be good for his dad. James responded with a forceful nod, then began rambling about how excited he was to see his aunts and his cousins. When you went to set him down, he refused and clung to your neck, saying he didn’t want to get down.

“Well, do you want to go?” you asked firmly. Again, he nodded. “Then you’re gonna have to get down.”

Being the ever-so-stubborn Hiddleston boy he was, he refused to relent.

“Take me to my Daddy!” he demanded. You had learned over the years to pick and choose your battles, and this was one you wouldn’t win. There was a groan and a sigh involved, but you looked at the little boy in your arms. Obviously, Tom had taught him the puppy dog eyes, because he always made them when he wasn’t about to get his way. Kind of like now.

“Fine. Does Mommy look okay?” He nodded like a bobble head, and you headed towards the door. As soon as James could see Tom, he started wiggling and squirming, trying to get out of your arms. You snorted and set him down. His little legs carried him across the entry way floor faster than you expected. He leapt into Tom’s arms, and the two immediately launched into an exchange of who missed who more.

But Tom paused when he looked up at you. Your arms crossed over your chest and your face became stone.

“James, will you please go see if Aunt Amanda needs any help? I need to speak with Mommy for a minute.” James gave you a look of dismay, but set off with your mother to find your sister. Tom stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“How have you-“

“Cut the shit, Tom. What do you want?” He appeared to be considerably taken aback by your tone, but there was no room for you to care. The last thing you needed was your resolve crumbling.

“I… Wow…” He stopped, mouth open, like he was trying to find the right words. “Can we please just be civil? For James?”

“You’re asking _me_ for civility? Oh, that’s rich! After everything you’ve fucking done to me, Hiddleston. I wasted more than half my life on you. If it weren’t for my son-“

“ _Our_ son,” he interjected taking a few steps towards you. You took a big step back.

“Tom, please just… Just take James and go. I’m not going to fight with you.” He sighed and continued to close in. With his lengthy strides, you were unevenly matched.

“You have every right to hate me, darling. I don’t disagree. But for the sake of our son, you and I need to be able to get along. I won’t miss out on his future achievements because you’re angry with me. Come with us. Come have dinner with us. We can be a family, even if it’s only for one night. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable. It’ll just be the three of us, no one else.”

You started to shake your head in protest, but stopped to think about it. What harm would it do? James could see both of his parents happy together, even if it was purely feigned happiness.

“Fine, but you have to promise me something,” you finally asserted. Tom gave a curt nod and said he’d do anything you asked.

“Promise me that we can make this a monthly thing at the very least. James deserves it.”

“Could I convince you to make this a nightly thing?” For the first time in over a year, you laughed. A real laugh, accompanied by an actual head shake this time.

“Not a chance, Hiddleston. But I’ll compromise. Weekly?”

“Deal.”


	16. Just A Little Bit - Tom Hiddleston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Just A Little Bit by Kids of 88.  
> Feedback appreciated.
> 
> <3

“Thomas, sit still,” you snapped, trying to pin the seam of his pant leg. He replied with only a throaty chuckle and refused to cease the swaying of his hips. With the back of your hand, you swatted the outside of his thigh. You rolled your eyes playfully, pairing that with an exaggerated sigh. It was endlessly entertaining to watch Loki dance to the musical stylings of Lady Gaga, but you really needed him to stop.

“I really like this song!” he crooned, starting to tap his toes to the rhythm. Trying to maintain a jesting tone, you were quickly losing your patience. You did the only thing you could think to do. Without consideration, you reached up and pressed your palms against his hips bones. The way they jutted out when he moved was nearly maddening, but you had to keep your wits about you. There could be no leading on about your feelings for him.

“Unless you’d like a pin to the testicles, I’m going to have to ask that you quit moving until I’m finished,” you snickered halfheartedly. He bit the inside of his lip and his hips slowed to a gradual stop. The corners of his mouth twitched briefly, but when he saw the grin on your lips, they curled up into a full smile.

“Oh, come now! You wouldn’t damage such precious cargo!” he chirped, wringing his hands together. His signature chuckle echoed off the walls. You shook your head, gathering a part of the seam at his inner thigh.

“Don’t tempt me, Tom,” you sighed, looking up at him with a wink. He lowered his hand, running his narrow fingers over your lower jaw. Unconsciously, you leaned into it. His palm cupped your cheek, and for some reason, you couldn’t seem to break eye contact.

“You look positively breathtaking from this angle, darling.” His voice had dropped from the usual cheerful tone to a dark, husky baritone. Your breathing became shallow, hitching in your throat. There had always been a palpable sexual tension between the two of you, but for the sake of professionalism, you refrained from acting upon it. Even now, with his eyes trained on your expression, you were a bit leery. You wanted this. You had for years, since first meeting him. But the constant threat of losing your job loomed overhead like a storm cloud. Still, you put on a playful face. You tacked the last piece of the seam and patted his thigh.

“Go change,” you snickered, finally tearing yourself from the hold of his stare. “And be extremely careful taking those pants off. Wouldn’t want you to stick yourself, would we?” He sighed, forcing a smile when you glanced back up. He took a step off the pedestal, turning his back to you.

“Mind getting that rotten zipper for me, love?” he chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. You stepped up and over the pedestal, placing both hands on his back. There was a slight trepidation in your touch, like you’d mistaken his comment for something more than it was. The musculature around his spine tensed. Your fingertips worked deftly to grasp the pull of the zipper. His pale skin, brought on by a forced lack of sunlight, seemed to glow over the top of the collar. The black panels of the tunic parted easily enough with the downward trend of the zipper. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was holding his breath.

“There.” You rubbed his shoulder, and felt him exhale slowly, quietly. He thanked you briefly before shedding the remainder of the garment. That was just about all that you could take. The new sight of his entire back bared to you brought about a new appreciation, and if there was a God, you were thanking them profusely.

“Pants too, love. I can’t see it,” he quipped, resting his hands on his hips. This jarred your gaze from his back to the zipper of his pants. Your hands twitched with anticipation, and the nerves nearly won. The stutter of your fingers against his lower back caused him to tense up again. A chill ran up the length of your spine as you grabbed the pull and began to slide it down. When the dimples in the back of his hips became visible, you let out an involuntary gasp. With an airy laugh, you just knew he had that smug grin on his lips.

“Mind letting me get dressed, now, darling?” You drew your hands back quickly and gestured to the door.

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll be out there. Don’t worry about hanging it up, though,” you breathed, moving towards the door. You took one more glance back, watching Tom shimmy the now form-fitting pants down his long legs. His ass looked beyond perfect, but, of course, you weren’t going to say anything. You slipped out silently, pulling the door shut with an inaudible _click_.

The anxiety and nerves swelled to an all-time high and you plopped down at your desk, burying your head in your hands. Not only had you just made a total goon of yourself in front of Tom Hiddleston, but managed to single-handedly destroy the prestige you’d spent so much time building. _Great, now I’m definitely both getting fired and throwing myself off a cliff._ You sighed, thumping your forehead into the heels of your palms.

“Don’t do that, my dear. You’ll give yourself a migraine.” A pair of hands found their way to your shoulders, cautiously rubbing away the tension. You let out a breath and leaned back in your chair, letting these hands work their magic.

“Thanks, Tom,” you muttered back, allowing your head to loll to the side. He looked down at you with a grin, taking your response as a go-ahead to work his deft thumbs into the tissue a bit harder. The second he did, you let out a grateful moan of relaxation. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Do be mindful of those delicious noises you make, love. I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression,” he whispered, dropped his lips beside your ear. The tip of his tongue flickered over it momentarily, and you bit down hard on the inside of your lower lip, near the point of drawing blood. His mouth trailed sloppy kisses from your ear, down your jaw, to the crook of your neck. Your head dropped back against him.

“Tom, this is unprofessional,” you sighed halfheartedly.

“And yet, you’re not exactly begging me to stop, are you?” You shook your head. His lips departed your skin, leaving you speechless, but ready to beg for more. Before you had the chance, however, his mouth captured yours. It didn’t leave a searing feeling, like the former kisses. It was soft, gentle, kind. And almost as soon as it began, it was over. He pulled back far enough to break the kiss, but stayed close enough to leave his lower lip barely touching yours.

“Tom-”

“Forget professionalism. In fact, fuck professionalism. I’m not letting a bunch of stuffed shirts with upturned noses dissuade me from having what I have craved for so many years. I’ve watched since my first fitting as you’ve worked those pretty little fingers to the bone. You’re constantly under immense stress and pressure, and you deal with it like a champion. Please do me the honor, give me the privilege, of allowing me to help you relieve some of that stress. Say, perhaps, dinner this evening?”

He stood hunched over your shoulder; lips still a scant inch from yours. You gave a hesitant nod, but he clicked his tongue, making a _tsk tsk_ noise.

“Answer me, sweetheart. Out loud. I want to hear you say it,” he commanded in a lower tone.

“Yes. Dinner sounds wonderful.”

“Magnificent. I’ll send details later. I greatly look forward to it.” He pressed a messy, open-mouthed kiss against your waiting lips and turned on his heel, strutting out of the room.


	17. Nightmare - Chris Hemsworth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Nightmare by Set It Off.  
> Everything in italics is considered to be graphic content and it not for the easily disturbed, I suppose. Hence the rating change. So fair warning!
> 
> <3

_Every muscle in your body ached. The smell of iron and rot filled the room, with an underlying tinge of bleach. A wave of nausea swept over you, making your stomach turn. You swallowed hard, trying to deflect the bile rising in your throat. For the first time, you opened your eyes. The walls were dingy and grimy. The once white wallpaper was peeling at every opportune spot, and russet spatters and smears soaked the central portion of each panel. The room was dark, save for one single lamp in the corner of the room opposite you, but even at that, the dim bulb provided only enough light for you to see the corner itself._

_Panic set in. Your dry throat let out a hoarse cry, and a metallic taste flooded your tongue. You prodded it against your lip, feeling a split in the flesh. A drip fell from your upper lip to the floor, splattering the sullied cement with red. You felt another drop slipping from your nose, then one down you cheek._

_Your hands guided themselves to your face. A hiss of anguish erupted from your tense jaw as you touched an open wound over your left temple._ Where the fuck am I? What happened?

_You stood up, hearing a tinny clang. You took a step forward, but something stopped you. A force around your ankle pulled your foot out from under you, and you fell face first to the floor._

_Groaning loudly, you braced your hands against the floor. You pushed up, feeling something squish a bit under one of your palms. Eyes narrowed, you began to adjust to the darkness as you pulled yourself up on your knees. You focused in on what your hand had been on, and you immediately wished you hadn’t._

_The object on the floor was just under a foot long, slightly shriveled and a pallid shade of grey. It had five protrusions, the end of each dotted with a vivacious lavender color._ Oh god… It’s a foot. It’s someone’s fucking foot.

_A scream of pure, unadulterated terror echoed off the walls, crackling in your dry throat. Your hands flew to your mouth, covering it. The smell of decay and bleach radiated from your hands, and you couldn’t choke it back this time. You felt the familiar burning in your stomach, and you turned away. Your hands supported you against the wall as your stomach relieved itself of all its contents. Your entire body trembled as you heaved a few more times, spitting to try to get the taste out of your mouth. You wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand._

_A sudden groan startled you more, and you pressed your back to the wall, readying yourself, if necessary, to fight. Shuffling filled the silence, followed by a similar clank. You whimpered, then held your breath, avoiding making another sound. A voice called your name, filled with dread and distress._

_“Is that you? Where are you?” You immediately recognized the voice as your husband._

_“Chris?” You called, feeling your way along the wall. He repeated your name, and you saw slight movement coming from the direction of the voice. He was running his fingers through his cropped blonde hair._

_“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are we?” he asked, panicked. You shook your head, not that he could see._

_“I’m okay, Chris. I’m alright.” You reached as far as you could before straining the shackle on your ankle. Chris was fighting with his own, struggling to reach you. He was close enough to hold on to your hand. He gave it an assured squeeze._

_“I’m gonna get you out of here. We’re gonna get out. We’re gonna be okay,” he promised. There was a slight creak, followed by a slam. Your eyes darted to the one wall you couldn’t see clearly._

_In the blackness, there was something darker. The silhouette was human. A dark, dry chuckle corrupted the air, and there was a loud bang. You felt his hand fall from yours, his body tumbling to the floor. Another bright muzzle flash put your own body down, with you still reaching for your husband._

You bolted upright, a cold sweat dripping from every pore. Frantically, you searched both sides of you for Chris. His side of the bed was empty, the sheets drawn back. A vaguely recognizable terror welled up in your stomach, and you leapt to your feet, propelling yourself out of the bedroom. You steered yourself down the hallway, hearing a clatter in the kitchen. A glass clinked against the faucet of the sink, and the tap was turned on. You rounded the corner, wiping tears from your face, and spotted Chris standing there. He was leaning back against the counter, a small glass of water in his hand.

“Chris…” you muttered, your fingertips clawing at the tears pouring down your face. His turned to a mixture of concern and unease. The glass found the countertop, and he rushed across the kitchen, gathering you in his arms. One of his hands found the back of your head. Sobs wracked your body as you clung to him, fisting his shirt in both hands.

“Ssshh… It’s okay. I’m right here.” His voice was calm and even. The muscles in his arms clenched and flexed as he tightened the hold on you. “What happened? Another nightmare?”

You nodded into his chest, terrified of letting him go. Your heart pounded against your rib cage, threatening to punch a hole through you.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked softly, threading his fingers through your hair. You shook your head, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Hey, you’re okay, darlin’. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. You’re safe.”

His affirmations helped to push the vivid images from your head, and the sobs finally subsided. He loosened his grip on you and you looked up at him.

“I love you so much, Chris…” you murmured. He pressed a long, chaste kiss on your lips, muttering how he loved you too. His body parted from yours for a moment, and Chris pushed his glass into your hand.

“Drink, love.” You did as you were told, albeit shakily. He pressed repeated kisses to your hairline, slowly tracing your spine with his fingertips. “You wanna go back to bed?”

You shook your head adamantly, telling him you’d never be able to go back to sleep after that. He nodded hesitantly.

“You wanna watch a movie then?” His deep voice vibrated in his chest as you leaned your head into it. Chris took that as a yes, slipping his arm back around you. You finally allowed yourself to relax a bit as he guided you into the living room.

He snagged your favorite comedy off the top shelf of the entertainment center, popped it in, and stretched out on the couch, pulling you down on top of him. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, throwing it over the top of you both, you wrapped his arms back around you, keeping you securely to his chest, and before the movie has even halfway over, you’d been lulled back into a dreamless sleep.


	18. Worldwide - Chris Hemsworth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Worldwide by Big Time Rush.  
> Considering making this a two-parter.  
> Sincerest apologies if my slang is somewhat dated and/or incorrect. Let me know and I'll get it fixed.
> 
> <3

_Two more weeks. Just two more and he’ll be home._

That seemed to become your new daily mantra. Always _this many days_ until Chris comes home. You’d been keeping careful track, since his filming schedule was so hectic, and you were literally down to fourteen days. You could handle that, right? Sure, you hadn’t seen him in three months. But really, in the grand scheme of things, what’s 108 days apart?

A lot. 108 days apart was a lot. It was agonizing, frustrating, annoying, and disheartening. But if there was one thing Chris was good at, it was keeping in touch. He called every night, regardless of his schedule. Whether it be for a few minutes or a few hours, he made sure you heard his voice before you went to sleep.

Tonight, though… Tonight was a bit off. It was nearing midnight, and still no word from Chris. You were pacing anxiously across the spacious bathroom, phone in hand. The small timer on the counter ticked meticulously. Eight minutes never seemed so long. This was the twelfth one this week, and they’d all told you the same thing. _Just two more weeks._

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and it startled you a bit. You looked down, seeing an incoming Skype call from Chris. A huge smile spread across your lips like butter on a pancake, and you almost immediately hit the green ‘accept’ icon. His tan, chiseled face popped up. Once he saw you, he couldn’t suppress his own goofy grin.

“Hey, beautiful!” he chirped, waving a bit. You waved back, unable to stop the wave of nervous giggles.

“Now, before you ask about mine, how was your day?” His voice was firm, but inquisitive. You sighed, looking at the timer ticking away on the counter.

“My day? It was decent.” His eyes narrowed a bit, and he tilted his head to the side.

“What did you do all day?” You smiled, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub.

“Nothing productive. Mostly just housework… Chris? Why are you sitting in the dark?” He raised an eyebrow, glancing around him.

“No particular reason. Just wanted some time alone to talk to you.” It was your turn to give him a quizzical look, and he let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Tom’s been on me for days now, trying to get me to let him talk to you.”

You laughed a little, letting it come out airy and light.

“And Jaimie and Kat are missing you as well. Both send their love,” he continued, pushing a short stray strand of blonde hair from his eyes. He sighed, taking a long blink.

“I miss you so much.” You sighed inwardly, glancing over at the timer. _Tick tick tick tick. Two more minutes._

“I miss you too, Chris. But you’ll be home soon enough.” Another deep chortle echoed through the speakers, and you could practically feel the vibrations from his chest against your ear.

“Okay, I have to ask, love… Why are you in the dunny?” You paused for a moment, and right on cue, the time dinged, signaling the end of your wait.

“Well, I wanted to be sure before I said anything…” You stood up, crossing back to the sink. The pale pink stick on the counter, like all the others before, showed two solid pink lines. Another unstoppable grin settled in, and you held the stick up, showing Chris the result.

“Is that what I think it is?” Your stomach twisted and knotted, tangling up in itself.

“Yes. Yes, it is. Chris, I’m pregnant.”

The look on his face was brief bewilderment, followed by a beam that you swore took up half his face. His steely blue eyes were swimming with a mixture of exuberance and anticipation, and for some reason, he couldn’t stop laughing.

“You’re serious? You takin’ the piss?” Chris rarely reverted to his native slang, but this case was an exception. You shook your head.

“I’m serious. I just showed you the proof!”

“Well, bugger me dead, an ankle biter. Let me go round ‘em up, so we can tell everyone together!” The swirl of street lamps behind him, coupled with his shoes thudding against the pavement, let you know he was still on set. You could hear him yelling for everyone to gather, and various familiar faces began to shuffle in behind him. Before a single word could be said, Chris was holding up his phone, making sure everyone could see you, and you them, and a crisp voice with a striking British accent piped up, calling your name.

“Good to see you, darling!” Chris shot Tom a sideways glance with a smirk. Tom gave his signature chuckle. “So, what’s all this excitement about? Why have you got Chris shouting at everyone?”

You took a second to take in everyone’s eager faces, studying their expressions. Chris hadn’t stopped smiling since you told him, nor had you, and you had an inkling that it’d be a welcomed surprise.

“Well, go ahead, Chris,” you snorted, holding the stick back up.

“Looks like we’ve got baby Hemsworth on the way!”


	19. White Noise - Chris Hemsworth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song White Noise by PVRIS.  
> I'm terrible, I know.  
> Short af. Might re-write later.  
> Feedback appreciated.
> 
> <3

Chris wouldn’t speak to you on the drive home. You weren’t sure if he was angry that you’d called Tom to pick you up or if he was still shaken up about the accident. You and Tom had both walked away with no major injuries, surprisingly, so your bet was on the former.

His eyes were puffy and bright red. Every once in a while, he’d slam his trembling palms against the steering wheel, letting out a huff as he navigated the Los Angeles streets. Not once did he even look at you, but half way back to the hotel, he let one arm rest on the center console with an open palm. You did the only thing you could think of, placing your hand in his. Chris showed no reaction, though. He didn’t grip you back, nor did he pull away.

Twice, however, he did pull over. Emotions were still running high, and he would get out of the car. After a few well-placed kicks to the tires and more choked back sobs, he’d get back in and resume the trek back.

Once he parked the car, he drew in a shaky breath. Your name left his lips, followed by a slew of profanity. Tears flooded his swollen eyes again.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry. Never shoulda started that stupid fight with you, and this never woulda happened…” You shook your head and squeezed his hand.

“It’s not your fault. It was an accident. Just a fender bender. We’re okay, Chris. We’re fine. Let’s just go inside,” you uttered reassuringly. He got out of the car without another word, slamming the door behind him.

Chris didn’t really completely lose it until he got inside. No sooner than the room door latched, he broke down. His hands reached for anything in his path, and as soon as his fingers found it, it was cast away from him. Nothing would remain standing when he was done. You’d never seen him like this before.

“What are you doing?! Chris, stop!” you called out, rushing behind him, trying to get his attention. As had been the situation all day, he ignored you, reaching for a lamp.

At the end of his rampage, the mattress was shoved off the bed, stripped of all the sheets. The bedside lamps had been thrown into mirrors. Both your suitcase and his were flipped over, clothes littering the floor. Nightstands were overturned, his hands were bleeding, and there was a tear in the front of his shirt. He paced back and forth for a while, but then stopped in the center of the room. Chris dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands. In the two years you’d been dating him, you’d never once seen him cry, and seeing him like this absolutely killed you.

You dropped to your knees behind him, and the light on the television turned green, signaling it had been turned on. The remote must have gotten stuck under Chris.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry… I should’ve been there. This never should’ve happened. Please, forgive me. Please… I’m so sorry.” His sobs were breaking your heart in two. Chris’ entire body trembled, and he buried his face in his hands. You dropped beside him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Please don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything is alright. I’m right here, I’m okay.”

“I love you so much,” he whispered. “I don’t know how I’m gonna get through this.” You leaned in, pressing your lips to his damp cheek. He froze for a moment and lifted his head. His eyes trained on the static playing on an endless loop.

“Babe, shut it off.” You couldn’t see the remote anywhere, so you stood up and pushed the power button on the front. The light flashed red, and the static snowstorm disappeared. A sad smile spread across his lips, and the waterworks ceased.

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave…”

 

*

 

“Tom, have you heard from Chris lately?” Kat asked softly, tapping her fingertips against her thigh. Tom shook his head slowly. The dark circles under his eyes had grown since the service, leaving the rest of his face looking pallid and sickly.

“I haven’t, no. Not since… You know.” She nodded softly. “But it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve been calling daily, and he just won’t answer. Jeremy and Evans have been trying to get a hold of him as well, but no reply. I’ve half a mind to fly down and check on him. I realize that this is difficult, believe me, I do.”

“Of course it is. Have you been sleeping okay?” Tom shook his head again, looking down.

“I can’t get it out of my head. There was so much blood. And the look- oh God, Kat. The look on his face when her heart stopped, when she flat-lined. I keep seeing it all every time I close my eyes. I can still hear her screaming.” Tears were pouring down Tom’s face by this time, but a slight pressure on his shoulder helped him choke it down. Kat wasn’t touching him, but whatever it was, it felt reassuring. Surely, Tom was losing his mind, because he could’ve sworn someone else was with them.

The television in the corner of the room flickered on, blasting nothing but static. For a moment, Tom could’ve sworn someone was speaking to him, someone other than Kat. It was a kindly female voice, whispering sweet sentiments in his ear. He could only pick out a few words here and there, and a fraction of a second before the television shut itself back off, he caught five very clear words.

_“It’s not your fault, Thomas.”_


	20. I Can't Stop Drinking About You - Chris Hemsworth - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song I Can't Stop Drinking About You by Bebe Rexha.  
> Feedback appreciated!
> 
> <3

This had become a nightly occurrence. You had a standing date with a bottle of vodka. Six months had passed in his absence, and you found your only solace at the bottom of a bottle. The relief that came with intoxication made things better for a while. It helped you forget for the night. It helped you forget the smell of his cologne on your clothes, the feel of his skin against yours, the sound of all his broken promises. He said forever. He swore. When he made his vows, he never set an expiration date. Yet, as it seemed, that unspecified date came all too soon.

_“We need to talk,” Chris muttered, pacing across the living room. He had one hand buried in his hair, the other resting on his hip. The tips of his fingers drummed against the pocket of his jeans. Those four little words put you on the defensive immediately. You weren’t sure what this was about, but the inflection in his voice told you it definitely was not good. There was a brief second when you found your heart in your throat. It felt like you were about to vomit._

_Chris gestured to the chaise lounge and you took a seat, sliding all the way back. He sat down on the ottoman, placing a large, calloused hand on your bare calf. You relaxed a bit, trying to allow the action to comfort you. He refused to look at you, though. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the edge of the rug beneath the coffee table._

_“You know I love you, right?” he asked softly. His let out a shuddered breath, trying to maintain his composure. Cautiously, you nodded._

_“Yes, I… I do, and you know I love you, right?” It was his turn to nod. His fingers began to rub little circles over your leg, but his free hand was pressed over his face. His hair was disheveled from the constant rake and pull from his fingers, and when he looked at you, his usually bright, playful eyes were filled with dread and worry._

_“This isn’t your fault,” he began, drawing another trembling breath. “I just… I can’t.” You cocked an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. Was he really trying to say what you thought he was trying to say?_

_“Chris, are you…? No. No, you can’t. You can’t do this to me,” you choked out. There was a palpable weight in your chest, and you couldn’t help but cry. “Don’t do this, Chris, please! Please, no…”_

_Your hand clasped over his, holding it tightly. There was a void in the warmth, caused by your wedding band. He didn’t say anything, but you could see him in tears. You knew he felt awful about hurting you, given his past reactions to accidentally doing so. His shoulders shook with silent sobs. He was sniffling a little, too._

You were in the midst of nursing your third glass, swirling it so that the ice cubes clinked against the side of the glass. It did nothing for the taste, but you felt a little bit better about having some sort of noise aside from your own breathing. The phone started ringing for the eighth time.

_“…melting through the cracks in my hands, I guess I held on for too long. I'm done with your bittersweet, bittersweet tragedy. It's no fun; when I'm sitting all alone, you're right in front of me…”_

Instead of answering, you elected to let it go to voicemail. Once the missed call notification came up, you set it to vibrate rather than having to hear that god damn song over and over. But no sooner than you set it down, it began to vibrate again.

**Incoming Call:**

**Liam Hemsworth**

_Oh, for fuck’s sake! Why do they keep calling me?!_ You pressed ignore and chugged the remainder of your drink. Three missed calls from Liam, two from Luke, four from Tom, making a total of nine calls you chose to ignore. For the life of you, you couldn’t fathom why any of them would want to call you, let alone in such rapid succession.

That was when the texts began to pour in.

**Where are you?**

**Please answer your phone.**

**Call me as soon as you can.**

**Pick up or I’m coming over.**

No one bothered to explain why they were trying so desperately to get a hold of you. Though your stupid brain was jumping to the worst possible conclusions ( _Chris is hurt. Chris is dead. Chris, Chris, Chris…_ ), you tried to convince yourself that Chris was fine. They were just checking on you, right? Making sure you’re okay? But in the back of your mind, something felt _wrong_.

“Fuck it,” you muttered, reaching for the half-empty bottle of vodka just at arm’s length.

_“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. His voice cracked under the strain of his emotional state. Those words were something you never thought you’d hear from your husband: “I met someone else”. He explained that nothing happened with her, but his feelings were strong. Repeatedly, he reiterated the fact that he never meant for this to happen. He never meant to hurt you, never meant to feel this way. You knew that you couldn’t choose who you fall for, it just happens, but that brought you no comfort._

_Angry wasn’t the quite the word to describe the feeling welling in the pit of your stomach. It didn’t do it justice. Using the term rage or fury would be more accurate._

_You yanked your leg away from his apologetic touch, and he still refused to look at you. Blindly, he reached for you again, frantically searching for some sort of physical contact. It was next to impossible to slide out passed him, so you settled for the next best thing, climbing over the armrest._

_“What the fuck, Chris?” you hissed, throwing your arms out to the sides. “Do you remember what this means?” You pointed to your wedding ring. The volume of your voice was steadily rising, building with your wrath. Your temper had become a grenade, and all he had to do was pull the pin._

_“I’ll never forget what that means, and I’ll never forgive myself for this.” You yanked furiously, twisting and pulling your ring off._

_“Fucking give it to her, then,” you spat, throwing it at him. It bounced off his knee and hit the floor with a clatter. The noise startled him enough to make him finally look at you. His face was stained with lachrymal trails. The tip of his nose was bright red, and his eyelashes were clinging together, dewy from his tears._

By the time your phone rang again, you’d easily downed half of what was left. Your head felt light and airy, but your stomach was stirring horribly.

**Incoming Call:**

**Do Not Answer**

“Fucking prick,” you grumbled. This wasn’t the first time since he left that Chris tried to contact you. Any and all efforts were in vain, though, because there was nothing left to say. It was just a matter of being served with and signing the divorce papers.

Your phone finally stopped buzzing, but was lit up with a trio of new texts, all from Tom.

**Seriously, love, call me.**

**Will you please at least text me back?**

**That’s it. I’m coming over.**

You groaned inwardly, choking back a mouthful of vodka before texting Tom back.

**Everything’s fine, don’t worry. I’m just really busy, Tom. Right now is not a good time. Come over tomorrow instead?**

No sooner than you put your phone down, he replied.

**Not a chance. On my way, so see you soon.**


	21. I Can't Stop Drinking About You - Chris Hemsworth - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song I Can't Stop Drinking About You by Bebe Rexha.  
> Feedback appreciated.
> 
> <3

Tom wasn’t kidding when he said he was on his way. Despite Chris’ new home being forty-five minutes away, Tom made the drive in less than twenty. Before you could slam down the rest of the bottle, he was out front, pounding relentlessly on the door. The longer you let him knock, the louder it got. He began to yell your name, demanding that you open the door before he kicked it in.

“I mean it! Open the god damn door!” Tom hollered. You strode to the door, a stagger in your step. It took you a few seconds to process just how to unlock the door, because you were absolutely hammered.

“Are you off your fucking head? I haven’t heard from you in _weeks_! And then I come to visit Chris to find out that you’ve been ignoring everyone who – Are you drunk?! Are you fucking drunk?! Dear lord…” Tom stormed in, slamming and locking the door behind him. He grabbed you by the elbow, dragging you back into your living room.

“Sit down,” he commanded. You sat, albeit begrudgingly. “Is _this_ how you’ve spent the last few months?” You eyed the bottle less than arm’s length away, but Tom took a seat on your coffee table, putting his hands on your knees. He sighed, letting your name slip out.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, darling. Trust me, I know this is tough, but there are better ways to cope. Have you spoken with Chris?” You shook your head, probably a little longer than necessary, but the way it made the room swirl was pretty entertaining.

“Not since he moved out. He’s been calling and texting every few weeks, but I don’t answer. Why does he have to make this even harder for me, Tom?” Oh god. The tears were back. Tom took to rubbing your knees soothingly, trying to comfort you as best he could.

“He’s not doing it to make things difficult,” he said softly. “He wants to make sure you’re okay. You haven’t spoken to his brothers or his parents, until tonight you wouldn’t answer me. Hell, Chris even called your mother to see if she’d heard from you. Don’t you see, sweetheart? We’re all just worried about you. Except now, I have a definitive reason to be so concerned.” You sniffled, putting your hands over his.

“Listen, I’m going to get you something to eat. Hopefully that’ll sober you up a bit. I’ll ring ‘em all up and let them know you’re safe.”

“Just tell them I’m fine and ask them to just leave me alone for a while. It’s not their fault, but they’re making it worse.”

“I will not tell them that you’re ‘fine’,” he stated flatly. “You’re so far from even remotely okay right now. I’m good at reassurances, not lying.” With an angry huff, you retracted your hands, folding your arms over your chest. Tom leaned over your knees, standing slowly, and kissed your forehead. “Be right back. Don’t take off on me.”

He turned around and headed for the kitchen. Though your head was still swimming, you considered chugging the rest of the bottle on the table. When you overheard him on the phone, however, you stopped.

You managed to heave yourself up off the couch. Strategically, you grabbed the bottle anyways and positioned yourself outside the door to eavesdrop.

“Luke, hey… No, she’s alive. Can’t say for certain that she’s okay, but… No, I’ll call him in a few minutes… That wouldn’t be a good idea. Not with the condition she’s in at the moment… Okay. I’ll let you know. Thank you… Mmhmm, bye.” The slight whistle of a kettle on the stove took over as he hung up. There was a chorus of clicks from his finger against the screen of his phone. _Who the fuck is he calling now? It better not be…_

“Hey, Chris, it’s Tom… Yeah, she’s safe. Completely smashed, but safe. I’m going to stay with her tonight, keep her sober in the morning, and maybe then, you two can talk… No, I don’t think – yeah, but… Chris, don’t! I- god damn him.” The sound of his phone clattering against the counter was the last thing you heard.

 

*

 

When you opened your eyes, you were met with a blindingly bright light. The smell of chlorine flooded your nose, feeling more like an assault than taking a breath. A pair of short plastic tubes were stuffed into your nostrils, pumping a steady stream of oxygen into you. In your left arm, a needle protruded. It was connected to an IV line, which was fed into by a plastic bag of clear fluid.

Everything ached. Your throat felt like you’d been gargling nails and your stomach was in knots. No longer were you in your jeans and t-shirt, but rather in an absolutely heinous hospital gown. You let out a pained groan, trying to sit up. The throbbing behind your left eye made it clear that getting up was a poor decision. You went to rub the aching spot, but the grip of someone else’s hand on yours made it difficult. You took a few long blinks, then glanced over. The hand was connected to an arm, veiny and bulky, and the arm was connected to the rest of your soon-to-be ex-husband.

Chris’ head was resting on the edge of the bed. His eyes were scrunched shut, breath ragged. Frankly, he looked like hell. His hair was shaggy, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks. On his left hand, which was clutching yours like life itself depended upon it, he still wore his wedding ring. The little gold band was something you’d expected to be long gone.

Seeing him so serene was something you truly missed in his absence. You didn’t necessarily miss the snoring or the awful morning breath, but you missed _him_. You missed waking up next to him, his groggy ‘good morning’ every day, the way he’d squint until he adjusted to the morning light. Nothing quite compared to that.

You tried to slip your hand out of his without waking him. But the second you tried, he stirred. His eyes cracked open. Using his empty hand, he rubbed at one of his eyes and yawned. With a start, he squeezed your hand.

“Mornin’, sweetheart. How’re you feeling?” Making another attempt at sitting up, you hissed. Everything still hurt, but you powered through it.

“What happened?”

“You passed out. Tom said you might’ve hit your head on the way down. Had us pretty worried there for a while. Thought you might have some serious damage. You want some water? They said your throat might feel a right bit nasty after having your stomach pumped. Those tubes are no joke.” You nodded, tugging the other set of tubes out of your nose.

Chris handed you a small paper cup. Its contents wobbled with the tremble in your fingers. Somehow, you managed to swallow it, but it didn’t really soothe your raw throat.

“Can I ask you something?” he muttered. Had you not been looking right at him, you probably wouldn’t have even heard him.

“Only if I can ask you something he return.” He nodded. “Then go ahead.”

“Just know that if you say no, I’ll completely understand. What I did to you was horrible, and I don’t think, if I were you, that I could ever forgive what I’ve done. But can you ever forgive me? I made the biggest fucking mistake. When Tom couldn’t get a hold of you, that’s when it really hit me. I’ve never been so scared in my life. When I got his call last night, that was the worst feeling I’ve ever had. I don’t expect you to take me back. But I will get down on my knees and beg you for forgiveness if that’s what you ask.” You gestured to his wedding ring.

“That why you still wear it?”

“Yes. I have never taken it off. Separation doesn’t mean I’m not married.”

“It’ll take time, Chris. A lot of time and nothing less. It means a lot to me that you’re here, though.” He chuckled, kissing your knuckles.

“I couldn’t let you wake up alone. If you want me to go, Tom will be back in a few. Stepped out to get some coffee.” You shook your head fervently.

“Stay. Please.”


	22. What's Your Name? - Jeremy Renner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song What's Your Name? by Jesse McCartney.  
> Apparently he's on my writing playlist a lot.  
> Started losing steam about halfway through on this one, so I'll probably re-write the second half.
> 
> <3

1.)

The first time I saw her, she was in a Starbucks in downtown Modesto. There were three people in line between her and I, so at first, I only saw her from behind. But oh, what a sight that was…

Her shorts fit like a second skin, hugging the curve of her hips. There was a long rectangular shape jutting out of the back pocket on the right, about the size of a cell phone. She had a pair of low-top Chuck Taylors on. The color of her tank top matched her shoes, and I remember thinking it was a bit odd that someone would be wearing black in California in the middle of the summer.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting patiently for the man ahead of her to move. His hand was scrambling in his pocket for the correct change, and her next action was what drew my attention.

She slid up next to him, telling the cashier to add her drink to that order. In her now extended palm was a $50 bill. Then she turned around.

“I’d like to pay for the few folks behind me too,” she crooned with a smile. The older woman right in front of me looked back at me with wide eyes and a grin.

“What a darling girl! That’s the sweetest thing.” I nodded in agreement, listening intently to the girl at the front. The man that was ordering had his arms around her, thanking her profusely for her kindness.

“I imagine it won’t all be spent by the time you get to the gentleman in the back,” the girl told the barista, gesturing to me. “So keep whatever change is left.”

There was another profound eruption of gratitude from behind the counter, as well as the two women in front of me and the man by the girl’s side. She had a radiant smile, and Jesus Christ… She was absolutely stunning. Probably the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, and even that was an understatement.

The pair in the front moved away, waiting for their drinks, while the two women followed suit, ordering and stepping to the side. Just as I reached the counter to order, though, she was grabbing her cup.

The man gave her another hug, praising her for being such a kind soul. One of the women shook her hand, thanking her once more. The other woman gave her a soft, one-armed squeeze as well. She bid them all a good day and made her way towards the door. With a half-jog, I met her there, stopping her.

“Hey, thanks. That was really a kind thing for you to do,” I stammered, trying to keep my composure as those gorgeous eyes looked directly into mine.

“Oh, it’s no problem. Pay it forward, right?” she replied, seemingly unphased by my jabbering. “Gotta get going though! Have a great day!”

I spent the rest of the day with that beautiful face on my mind, but kicking myself for not asking her name.

 

 

 

2.)

The second time I saw her, I was sitting in my car at a red light. A silver Honda pulled up next to me, and out of instinct, I looked to my left, seeing her sitting in the passenger seat. She and the driver were dancing to whatever song was playing. With the words her lips were forming and the reverberating bass, I could tell exactly what it was.

She had that brilliant smile on her face, a cigarette tucked between her fingers, and a Taco Bell cup in her other hand. Her hair flailed wildly around her face, distorting her gorgeous features for a moment.

I could see her top half, and I knew I was staring. The curve of her collar bones was revealed by a professional-looking button down with the top four or five buttons undone. A bit of cleavage was visible between the buttons, and the thought of ripping those buttons off was enough to make my pants a bit tighter. My knees pressed together, as I tried to look away.

My view was obscured by her hand coming up to her mouth. Jesus Christ, that fucking mouth. She took a long drag of her cigarette before tilting it out the window to knock off any loose ash. Those sinfully pink lips of hers parted, and she exhaled a cloud of ashen smoke, rejoining the singing without missing a beat.

I knew I was going to have a hard time getting the image of her out of my head. Those delicate hands, the things they could probably do, how they’d feel on my skin. Her lips, how soft they probably were, how they’d feel wrapped around my-

_God damn it, Jeremy. Shut up. Please, for the love of God, shut up._

I tried to shake the thoughts from my head, but they came back. My mind went right back to the slope of her shoulders, how it’d feel to press my lips in the junction of her neck, the sound of those buttons popping off and flying across the room…

_Stop. Stop it. You don’t even know her, you fucking weirdo._

But dear lord, how I wanted to.

It wasn’t very long that she was stalled next to me, but it felt like hours. Torturous hours of being able to look at her, but not touch her or speak to her, and it was sure to drive me crazy.

Part of me wanted her to look over at me. See me, recognize me, wave, something. Anything.

But when she didn’t, I felt a small wave of relief.

_Good. She won’t know that I’m being a fucking creep right now._

Apparently, my staring was so intent that I didn’t even realize the light had turned green. The car sped off, and a few impatient honks behind me made me look up. I took off, but I kept thinking about how I should’ve found a way to get her name.

 

 

 

3.)

This time, when I saw her, it was different.

I walked into a bar in Modesto one night. I’d talked my co-stars into going for a night out, and I’d specified that one because it was downtown.

Looking back on it, I spent a lot of time wandering around downtown, just hoping to run into her. It’d been three months since I first saw her, and it was making me fucking crazy. I was having dreams about her, seeing her everywhere, both literally and figuratively. I saw her in the record store, at the beach, in the mall, at a concert… And I thought I saw her everywhere else. I felt like I was losing my mind. I didn’t even know this girl, and yet I couldn’t get her out of my head.

Once inside the bar, I was flagged down by Mark. He waved me over to the table, where he was surrounded by everyone else. The Chrises both had a beer in their hand, Downey was on the phone, Scarlett was deep in conversation with Lizzie, and Aaron, poor kid, just looked really uncomfortable. I mean, there was a pretty haggard lady hitting on him, so it’s understandable. I thought Tom was the only one missing, but I saw him at the counter out of the corner of my eye.

I took the seat next to Mark, since it was the only left. Downey raised a hand to signal a waitress, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Hemsworth put his empty bottle on the table, making jokes about how Evans drinks like a bitch.

“So, what can I get for you?” A soft voice spoke over the music, and it sounded so familiar. I just couldn’t really place it.

“Drinks!” Downey quipped, shooting the waitress a smile.

“Gonna need something a bit more specific, honey!” she replied, laughing.

_Where do I know that voice from? Do I know her? Oh god… Did I date her? Well, why don’t you turn around and find out, fuckwad? Great idea._

I spun in my seat, looking at the girl. Not just the girl, but _the_ girl. The same one I’ve been unconsciously stalking for months.

Ignoring everyone else, I stuck my hand out to her, demanding her name.

“Name’s Jeremy. What’s yours?” She placed her dainty hand in mine and responded with her name, and believe me, it was exactly how I imagined it. Creepy, I know.

“I think I bought you coffee a few months ago, didn’t I? Good to see you again!” I nodded, grinning like an idiot.

“I think you should let me repay you with dinner, yeah?” She nodded, scribbling something on a blank ticket and handing it to me.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.


	23. Stayin' Alive - Jeremy Renner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Stayin' Alive by Tyler Carter.  
> Having some serious Renner feels lately. I really just wanna hug him.
> 
> <3

The rain pounded the sidewalk, spitting smaller drops back up. Jeremy was absolutely soaked. His heather grey t-shirt was clinging to his torso and his boots were squelching under his feet.

 _So much for 85 and sunny, huh?_ He quipped, scoffing. His sandy colored hair clung to his forehead, despite all his prior attempts to push it back or to the side.

The clouds in his eyes were about as grey as the clouds in the sky, and it wouldn’t take anyone a whole lot of thought to see that he was troubled. Things lately just hadn’t been going his way. Just when he thought things were settling down and he was going to be okay, something else slapped him across the face. He was struggling to cope. Frankly, he wasn’t sure whether he was angry or depressed. What he did know was that he was miserable.

He made his way to a path-side bench, eyeing the rest of the park. Reasonably, there was no one in sight, which almost made him feel a bit better. He sat down, feeling the excess water wring out of his jeans against the wood. He dropped his elbows to his knees and buried his head in his hands, slinging silent curses at the world.

Nothing could have prepared him for all this shit. Everything was all over the place, falling apart, and his head was so scattered. He was even having trouble focusing on his scripts at home.

Jeremy was so lost in all these emotions that he didn’t notice the woman approaching him.

“Excuse me, sir,” her soft voice called. “I don’t mean to be a bother, but are… Are you okay?”

He looked up to meet the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. Cliché, yeah. But it was enough to stun him for a moment. Her hair was wind-whipped and soaked, much like Jeremy. Various strands were plastered against her forehead, cheeks and neck.

Composing himself, Jeremy cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I… I’m fine, thanks,” he answered, forcing a half smile. She gave him a skeptical look and stuck her hand out, mentioning her name. His large, calloused hand enveloped her delicate, soft one, and he shook it timidly. His only reply was his own name.

“Well, Jeremy,” she grinned. “It’s lovely to meet you, and might I say, I think you’re lying. No one sits outside in a thunderstorm when they’re fine.”

Her demeanor was calm and kind, and that was something he really needed at the moment.

“You caught me…” He ran a hand through his sopping hair. “But I suppose you’re ‘not fine’ too?” Her lips shifted a sad smile and she nodded.

“No, I’m not. Hence why I’m out in this,” she said, gesturing to the sky. He patted the open space next to him, and she sat down without reservation.

“We can sit here and be ‘not fine’ together, then.”

 

*

 

“Hey, babe?” Jeremy called from the kitchen. You popped your head around the corner, pulling your towel snugly against you.

“Yeah?” He grinned, eyes sweeping over the top hem of the cloth.

“On your way home from work, can you run by the grocery store and get a few things for me?” You nodded as he moved from the sink to your side, kissing the top of your head.

“You got a list?”

“Yeah, it’s on the fridge.” He slipped his arms around your hips, pulling you close. “Or you could call in sick and we can spend the day in bed. We’re almost ready as it is.”

His fingers traced gentle swirls on your rear over the towel.

In the two years since that day in the park, the two of you had become inseparable. He’d been a stranger for a day, but ended up being your best friend, then boyfriend. Unless he was away filming, you saw him every day. But even when he was gone, he made sure to call, text, and FaceTime you at every available opportunity. It never failed to amaze you how two broken hearts could come together in such an unusual manner, and how such a random act of kindness turned into such a beautiful thing. Since that day, you’d fallen completely and absolutely head-over-heels in love with him.

You planted your hands on his bare chest, giving him small pecks until your fingers laced together at the back of his neck.

“Jer… You know I’d… Love to,” you mumbled between kisses. “But I can’t.”

He groaned inwardly, shaking his head.

“I’m only letting you go because I need stuff for dinner tomorrow,” he insisted, pulling away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

With hands full of bags, you had to kick the front door shut with your heel.

“Jer? I’m home! Could use a hand!” you called out. You expected a reply, but none came. The lights were off, but there was a small flicker coming from the dining room. You figured he was already lying in bed, probably watching a movie, and just forgot to shut off the wax warmer. But when you walked into the dining room, you realized you were wrong.

The dining room was lit by a quintet of candles, and the flickering of the flames illuminated a large bouquet of red roses. But those weren’t the only ones. There was a trail of petals, leading to a large circle, where Jeremy sat, down on one knee. He just looked at you with the biggest smile and slipped a small black velvet box out of his pocket.

“Through these last couple years, I’ve found something I never expected,” he started, watching you put the bags down. Your hands, as soon as they were free, went to your mouth. Tears burned the corners of your eyes, and you took a deep breath.

“That day in the park, that’s what I call fate. It wasn’t coincidence that we met. But you and I, we’ll never see those rainy days again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t imagine a life without you.” A few drops slipped from your eyes, and you allowed them to fall freely down your cheeks. “I feel so alive with you, and everything just feels right.”

Jeremy extended his arm, holding the box out to you. He lifted the top, showing you the ring. You took a few steps towards him, finally wiping frantically at your face. You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asked. You didn’t need to think about it. You already knew what to say.

“Yes, Jeremy, I… Yes!” He leapt to his feet and rushed forward, collecting you in his arms. He pressed his lips to yours tenderly, taking his time to map out the contours of yours. The pair of you stood like that, joyous tears mixing and mingling on your cheeks, for what seemed like hours.

For a brief second, he broke contact, but only to slip the ring on your left hand.

“I love you so much,” he murmured against your lips.


	24. My House - Jeremy Renner - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song My House by PVRIS.   
> Highly recommend you listen to it before/while reading.  
> Angst ahead. I'll write another one for Renner soon!  
> <3

A pair of soft footsteps padded across the kitchen floor, followed by a string of curses. You rolled over in your bed, listening intently. The sheets were twisted and tangled around your legs, with sweat matting your hair to your neck. You tried in vain to pull them up, to cover your bare body.

Silently, you cursed, knowing your boyfriend would be home soon. _He_ wasn’t supposed to be there. _He_ is the one who walked out on you; _he_ is the one who abandoned you when you needed him the most. But no matter how hard you tried, _he_ kept finding his way back in.

No matter what you did, you always felt _him_. It’s like he left, but his presence persisted, haunting you, taunting you. You could feel his laugh in your bones, his fingers on your skin, his body pressing down into the mattress next to you… And it made you feel nauseas.

His footsteps echoed across the hardwood flooring in the hallway, sending an involuntary shudder throughout your body. He was quickly approaching your bedroom door, and you couldn’t even think straight.

You could just picture him strutting down the hall in his boxer shorts, walking like he still lived there. Walking like his name was still on the lease, like it was _his_ house, like he hadn’t walked away from it like it was nothing.

A deep breath settled in your lungs, and you held it in, watching the doorknob turn. From the air conditioner, a freezing breeze whistled through the door as he cracked it open, setting a chill across your skin. He gave you a lazy grin, leaning against the frame. The light from the hallway gave him an eerie backlight, like your eyes wanted you to believe he’s some sort of saint.

Only a momentary pause and he was farther into the room, circling around to the other side of the bed. He walked slowly, deliberately, almost teasingly. You were right about him slinking around in his boxers with conviction, like he owns the place and everything in it, like he owns _you_.

No. Not anymore.

A twisted simper settled on his striking features, and his eyes were focused intently on you. He let his knees sink into the mattress, stalking across to you like a predator to its prey. The look on his face was animalistic in the purest sense.

He shifted, lying practically on top of you, propped up on one elbow. His fingers traced little circles down your sternum, dancing in a complicated rhythm down to your stomach.

The sudden guilt unsettled your stomach, and you cringed, keeping your stare from straying to his.

“I’ve missed this so much…” he started, resting his palm just below your navel. You shook your head, pushing his hand away. His face altered to one of surprise, but his touch instead found the valley between your breasts. Small strokes of his fingertips on your skin send another uncontrollable shiver up your spine. All of your effort went into composing yourself enough to speak, rather than giving in, giving him what he was after.

“I think you should leave, Jeremy.” He cocked an eyebrow, giving you that infamous ‘oh really?’ face, followed by a playful smirk. He leaned forward, readying himself to change your mind with a kiss. You put your hands up defensively, pressing them to his chest and shaking your head.

“I mean it. Please, Jer. Just go.” His face fell into a look of disappointment. He muttered your name, tracing another small pattern down your torso.

“Please… Don’t do this,” he crowed, placing his warm hand on your hip. He gave you a little tug, rolling you to your side. “I’ll be gone before he gets home, but please, don’t kick me out.”

You swallowed the lump that’d formed in your throat, fighting back tears.

“No, I need you to go. This… This can’t happen anymore. I’m not yours anymore, and it’s not fair to Ryan.” Jeremy shook his head vehemently.

“No, _he_ needs to go. He doesn’t love you like I do, know you like I do. What you want, what you need, how you like to be fu-”

“Shut up!” You pulled yourself away from Jeremy, your blood boiling. Getting up, you pulled on a pair of panties and a t-shirt. This time, both eyebrows arched up, creating a pair of creases in his forehead.

You couldn’t handle looking at him anymore, so you settled on bustling about, picking up his clothes and tossing them on the bed.

Finally, you coerced a sigh from him, and he got up, starting to redress himself. You turned your back, praying this would be the last time. A solitary tear slid down your cheek, and you were quick to wipe it away, fighting the inevitable shaky inhale that would follow. As soon as the quaking breath was drawn in, you felt his well-built arms wrap around you, followed by a drop of wetness on your shoulder and his own unstable inhalations as he buried his face in your hair.

“I love you. You know that, right?” he whispered, pulling you against him. You stayed quiet, squeezing your eyes tight to prevent more tears. Silent sobs wracked your body, and he kissed the top of your head.

“Please… Answer me.” Again, no response. He waited for a moment, feeling your hands come to rest on top of his. You hesitated, then began trying to pry his arms away. The resistance was damn near impossible for you to get through, no matter how hard you fought.

“God damn it!” he hissed, whipping you around, pinning you to the wall. “Fucking answer me!”

You looked up at him, and his tear-streaked face conveyed nothing short of remorse and shame. You wouldn’t let him break you. Not this time. Not again. You shook your head, feeling his arms loosen around you.

“I really do love you. You think I’d keep coming around if I didn’t? I’m so sorry. So so sorry…” He got down on his knees, taking your hands in his. “Leaving you has been the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and I am so fucking sorry. I’ll do anything it takes to get you to let me come home. I need you.  Please, just… Say something. Anything. Please…”

“I think it’s time for you to go.”


	25. My House - Jeremy Renner - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song My House by PVRIS.  
> Turned it into a two-parter, because I'm still having intense Renner feels.
> 
> <3

_No fucking way. No, no, no. This is not fucking happening. Oh God, please, no. Fuck. No._

There was no mistake about it. The test in your hand read positive, and no matter how many times you shook it or your head, it didn’t change. Two solid, pink lines remained.

Your head was reeling. The panic swelled in your stomach, forcing your heart into your throat. All you could think was that this couldn’t be happening. You’d been careful. You’d been so god damn meticulously careful to make sure this didn’t happen. How the fuck were you going to explain this to Ryan? How the fuck were you going to tell Jeremy?

_It’s his. It has to be. Fuck!_

The thought itself made you feel like you were about to vomit. Your intestines felt like they were twisting into calculated knots, and the bile rose in the back of your throat. No, you were actually going to throw up. With one hand, you pulled your hair back, trying to hold it out of your face. You dropped next to the toilet and heaved a few times before expelling the contents of your stomach.

It was the vomiting in the first place that made you take the test. You’d been puking daily for over a week, but otherwise felt fine. So, it couldn’t have been food poisoning or a stomach bug. Even Ryan had noticed that you were a bit different. He was concerned enough that he’d offered to make you an appointment to see your doctor.

After brushing your teeth for what seemed like the thousandth time, you grabbed your phone off the counter. There was no need to look through your contacts. His number had long since been deleted, but you had it memorized. Your fingers flew to type it in, and you hit the ‘call’ button.

He picked up after two rings. There was a hint of astonishment in his voice as he said your name, probably just to double check that it was you.

“Well, this is a surprise. How have you been?” The shock in his tone shifted to longing and dismay. You shook your head, reminding yourself that this wasn’t like old times. You weren’t calling him to see what he wanted for dinner, or to tell him you loved him. No, this was strictly informative.

“I’m okay. Listen, Jeremy, we need to talk.” He sighed, and for a second, he sounded fearful of what you were about to say.

“Then talk, sweetheart. I don’t have a whole lot of time.” You swallowed hard, contemplating the best way to say it. There was a brief silence that felt like it went on for minutes, but you had made a snap decision, figuring it would be for the best.

“Not over the phone. We need to discuss this face-to-face. When are you free?” On his end of the line, there was a shuffle of papers, a hiss and a curse, and a tearing sound.

“I’m done filming here in about two hours. You want me to drop by?” The lump in your throat hardened more, and you couldn’t seem to choke it back to speak. You clenched your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“Hey, are you okay? Do I need to come over now? Look, I’m sure the boss man will let me leave if-“ You cut him off abruptly, not ready to see him just yet. You needed to talk to Ryan about it first.

“No, Jer. It’s… It’s okay. I’m fine. Just let me know when you’re on your way and I’ll meet you outside, alright?”

“I… Okay. Alright, yeah,” he mumbled, sounding unconvinced. You whispered a quick goodbye and hung up, putting your phone back on the counter.

 

 

As promised, his text arrived two hours later.

**From: Unknown Number**

**On my way. See you soon. xx**

You almost answered him to tell him not to come. You were surrounded by a mess of food, shattered glass, and clothes. Ryan hadn’t taken it well when you told him. You had expected him to be angry, but you had never expected that he’d react like that.

His first strike was the back of his hand colliding with your face. The backswing alone was enough to make you cringe, but it was nothing compared to the rage-fueled collision. His next was the kitchen table. He’d grabbed the edge and flipped it over, catapulting plates and dishes across the room. The symphony of breaking glass was only momentarily disrupted by his brutal tirade of insults. He hurled every word in the book at you, and the only thought that processed was that you deserved it.

Ryan had departed to pack at that point, and you felt frozen. You couldn’t move from the spot, despite the stinging in your cheek and the blood in your mouth. A bruise was already beginning to form under your eye, and Ryan had just one last thing to say before leaving.

“I hope he doesn’t want it,” he spit venomously. “You deserve to be alone. You deserve to suffer alone.”

You still hadn’t moved. You stood there, phone in hand, trying to sort everything out. A few more texts came through within a few minutes of Jeremy’s first text, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the mess. It wasn’t until you heard the front door open and a fearful ‘holy shit’ that you finally blinked away tears and looked elsewhere.

Jeremy stood in the doorway between the dining room and the living room. His steely eyes were open wide and his mouth was slightly ajar.

“Jesus Christ, what happened in here?” he started. As soon as his gaze came to rest on your face, though, his demeanor switched. “What happened? What did he do to you?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, but you gestured to the floor. Jeremy stepped through the mess. The glass already in disarray further crumbled under his boots, creating a melody of crackles and crunches.

“Look at me, honey. What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?” You snorted inwardly.

“Not as badly as I hurt him,” you muttered, looking down at your stomach. You weren’t showing yet, but it wouldn’t be long. Jeremy didn’t seem to notice the act, though. He was apparently more preoccupied with whatever had taken place.

“What happened?”

“Jeremy, I’m pregnant.” Both of his brows quickly shot up, and he asked you to repeat yourself.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me, Jer. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.” You were expecting him to be furious. You were expecting him to storm out, or at least spit out a slew of profanity. He’d been quick to abandon you when he found out you wanted to get married, and you assumed the worst, thinking he’d be no different this time around.

You didn’t expect the grin on his face. He was smiling like the Cheshire cat with a beam that stretched from ear to ear, and he just started laughing, putting his hand on your stomach.

“Are you fucking serious?” he whispered between chuckles. You nodded, and he carefully began to let his hand run in circles across your skin. “I’m gonna… We… Can I… Shit.”

He took a deep breath to organize his thoughts.

“I’m gonna be a dad. Holy fucking shit.” The way he said it cracked your distraught exterior, and you had to smile.

Jeremy buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder, still chuckling. He continued to mutter into your skin his amazement and excitement. You draped your arms over his shoulders, and he reciprocated, looping one arm around you back and keeping his hand on your stomach.

“Does this mean I can come home now?” he finally asked, looking up at you. His eyes were filled with tears and genuine curiosity. You hesitated, though, searching for the lie. When you were incapable of finding it, you nodded.

“On one condition,” you interjected before he could get too excited.

“Anything, sweetheart. You name it.”

“Don’t leave us, Jeremy. I can’t take you leaving again. If you’re going to be here, then be here unconditionally.” He nodded, pressing his lips briefly to yours. His boots kicked the mess out from under him, and he dropped to one knee.

“I don’t have a ring right now, since this was kind of a surprise and all, but I want you to marry me. Not just because you’re pregnant either. I want us to be a family. Me, you, and this little bean.” He leaned up and kissed your stomach, whispering a quick ‘I love you’ to it. “A real family. All of us. In our house, babe. What do you say?”

“Yes.”


	26. This I Promise You - Jeremy Renner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song This I Promise You by NSYNC.  
> Nostalgia and Renner feels seem to go hand in hand for me lately.
> 
> <3

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked softly. Jeremy shot you his trademark crooked grin, with his lower lip slightly askew. He let out a raspy chuckle with small pauses in between.

“You think I’d be standing here if I didn’t?” You shot him a contemptuous look and sighed. He flicked the ash from his cigarette and brought it back to his mouth. A long drag was followed by ashen smoke rolling over his lips. You opened your mouth, trying to think of a response, but instead returned to your own cigarette. For a moment, you just watched the paper burn while the breeze caught loose embers, carrying them away.

Without warning, Jeremy took your free hand in his. His palms were coarse and calloused from the years or wear and tear they’d faced. But his fingers, they were more delicate. They didn’t show nearly the attrition. Between your right ring and middle fingers, there was a chilled, narrow line. It accented, but did not overpower, the heat of his skin against yours.

You looked over at him to find his bright eyes trained on your face. His inky black pupils were outlined by a faint mossy green, but unless you looked hard enough, it was invisible against the majority of steely blue. The lashes framing said eyes were fairly short, but worked to his advantage, providing more than adequate accentuation.

After a somewhat lengthy silence, you finally sighed.

“I’m sorry I keep asking,” you mumbled, swallowing the hardening lump in the back of your throat. “I’m just…”

“I know, honey. You’re nervous. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t too. With the things we’ve faced in our pasts, we both have every right to be. But you know, darlin’, you _know_ I’d never do anything to hurt you. I never would’ve put that ring on your finger if I wasn’t 100% sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Don’t ever forget that.” The look on his face said it all. It was his infamous no-nonsense face. Every crease was etched in with sincerity.

For the first time in weeks, you felt your nerves begin to retreat. There was something about the tone of Jeremy’s voice that always calmed your mind. You weren’t sure if it was the grit coming from the back of his throat, or the way his vocals hitched at the end of certain words, or even if it was his central Californian lilt that caused him to emphasize different syllables, but it always worked.

Using the tip of his middle finger, he flicked the remainder of his cigarette out into the street. It had burned itself down to the filter, and the familiar burn on your lips reminded you to follow suit. You tossed the butt out next to his. His grip on your hand disappeared as he turned around, but as soon as you turned as well, it was extended expectantly. You laced your fingers back through his.

“How did I get this lucky?” you wondered aloud. It had been meant to be rhetorical, but he answered regardless.

“I ask myself that every day. How did you get so lucky?” He chuckled, leaning into you. You laughed a little and pushed his shoulder away playfully. Jeremy took a few more steps before shifting his hip against yours.

“You’re such a child!” you chided, nudging him back. His mouth opened wide, forming a feigned look of offense. He put his unoccupied hand on his chest, then hissed slightly.

“Oh, how you wound me so, my love.” He halted his gait and pulled your body flush with his. His fingers disentangled from yours and he rested his forehead against yours. “Really, you ought to apologize before this situation gets out of hand.”

Jeremy pressed forward by a fraction of an inch, letting his lower lip ghost over yours. You found your eyes beginning to drift shut until a small, wet drop landed on your cheek. You frowned inwardly for a moment, but decided to ignore it in favor of his mouth. But when you adjusted to meet him fully, he wasn’t where you expected. Your eyelids fluttered a bit as they parted, and you were greeted by the sight of Jeremy looking up at the sky.

“Gonna rain, babe. We should get inside,” he said softly, squeezing his defined arms around you briefly. You shook your head.

“No way! I’ve yet to kiss you in the rain, Mr. Renner,” you insisted adamantly. He looked at you with furrowed brows and concerned eyes. He was eyeing you like he was about to make an attempt to dissuade you.

“We’re getting married tomorrow. No way in hell am I going to risk either one of us getting sick.” As the drops began to fall more steadily, you gave Jeremy a challenging grin. Your fingertips ran from his collar bones to the edge of his jeans and he tensed a bit.

“Come on, Jer…” you cooed, kissing right below his ear. “Do it _because_ we’re getting married tomorrow.”

“That’s not fair,” he whined, slipping his hands into your back pocket. “You know I can’t say no when you do that.”

The clouds overhead darkened at a rapid pace, and before you could respond, the drizzle became torrential downpour. Drops bounced back up off the sidewalk, splattering against your legs. Jeremy let his gaze slip from the sky back to your face, and his twisted grin returned to his lips.

“Fine… But if I… Get sick…” Jeremy murmured between kisses. “I’m gonna make… You… Take care… Of me.” You stifled a giggle and nipped at his lip.

“That a promise?” He offered a slight nod and a throaty chuckle before sighing.

“Only the first of many, sweetheart. But we really should get inside now.” He gave you a gentle tug towards the front porch, and you followed his lead. But once you’d progressed up the steps, he stopped just short of the threshold. Both of you were absolutely soaked from the rain, but he left no space between your bodies as he started to sway a bit, moving his grip to the middle of your back.

“I promise I’ll never go to bed angry. I promise I’ll call and text and FaceTime as much as our schedules allow when I’m gone. I promise to close the bathroom door when we have guests, and I’ll always remember to put the seat down. I promise to kill any and every insect that enters our home. I promise I will do my part to help with the housework. I promise to order pizza every time we argue. I will always eat whatever you cook, even if you accidentally burn it, and I will do my damnedest to keep a smile on that pretty little face of yours. I promise to fight with you, but also for you. When I asked you out on our first date, I don’t think you realized what you were getting yourself into. All the flights, the running around, the paparazzi and the gossip, my crazy schedule… But you’ve stood by me every day since then, and there are no words to express how grateful I am for you. So grateful that I will be spending every day of the rest of our lives trying to thank you properly. I love you.”

Another drop rolled down your face, but it wasn’t from the rain. Frankly, you were speechless. How could you follow up that kind of monologue? So you just said the only thing that would come out.

“I love you, too.”


	27. Déjà Vu - Jeremy Renner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Déjà Vu by 3OH!3.  
> Feedback appreciated.
> 
> <3

A man walked into your bar. No, that’s not the start of some cheesy joke. That’s what actually happened. He wasn’t a regular; that much you were sure of. _Must be some rich guy trying to buy me out again…_ You sighed, grabbing a towel off the side of the sink, and began to dry a glass from the draining rack.

The man’s leather jacket was your first clue that he definitely was not from around these parts. He was likely lost or already drunk. There was no sway to his purposeful walk, so not drunk. He didn’t exactly look bewildered, like the lost ones usually do, so probably knows exactly where he is.

He took a seat at the end of the counter, like he was trying to distance himself from everyone else. Initially, you thought it might have been leeriness of his location, considering your bar was in a less-than-reputable part of town. Not that you minded. The property was worth way more than you paid for it.

It wasn’t until you looked at his weary and worn face that it made sense.

“Bad day?” you asked, tossing the towel over top of your shoulder. He nodded. “What can I get for you?”

“Straight Jack, if you don’t mind, doll,” he muttered back. It was a bit difficult to hear him over the music and all the idle chatter, but you managed. You grabbed a short glass and filled it halfway with ice. The bottle of Jack Daniels seemed to always be at the front of the counter, so you snatched it and poured. When you slid his glass over on a paper coaster, you introduced yourself and shook his hand.

“I’m Jeremy. Jeremy Renner,” he answered, eyeing your name tag. “So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ in a place like this?” A look of surprise cast itself across your features and he snorted inwardly. “Don’t mean that in a bad way, honey. Just sayin’, with a rack like that, you’d make better money stripping.”

“You got something against female business owners, Jeremy Renner?” you asked with a grin. He shook his head firmly.

“No problem at all.” He fell silent after that, swallowing down a mouthful of his drink. You could hear the toe of his boot scraping the counter each time he tapped his foot, creating a new melody, one that you really didn’t mind at all.

If he needed another drink, he’d wait to catch you eye and raise his glass, then offer up a small thanks when you set it down. He was three drinks in by the time he spoke to you directly again.

“Funny how these things work, huh?” he chuckled. “Is it bad that I already know exactly what’s gonna happen tonight?” You raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you see that girl over there?” He pointed to a petite blonde in the back corner. She was leaning up against the wall with her arms crossed under her bust, pushing her cleavage further out. You nodded. “She’s gonna come over here and try to snag my number or a trip to my hotel room. And then the guy over there, the one playing pool? He’s gonna try to pick a fight with me for his old lady hittin’ on me. We’ll go out back, in the alley. He’d probably kick my ass, and I’ll be okay with it. Probably too drunk by that point to care, you know? And there’s a cop that hangs around. He’ll corner me and warn me of the dangers of ‘Mr. Hollywood’ being in a neighborhood like this so late at night. But in the end, I’ll blow him off because he’s got more hair on his back than he does on his head and more than just _one_ spare tire, and I don’t take shit from guys like that.”

Both eyebrows were raised by this time as he stared at you over his glass. Unconsciously, you were still drying the seemingly endless supply of glasses.

“And you, pretty lady… Well, you’re just too sweet a gal to let me drive to my hotel. You’ll probably take my keys from me and offer to call me a taxi. I’ll tell you it’s mean to call people names, and you’ll laugh. You’ll be worried, though, about whether or not I’m coherent enough to give the cabbie the name of the correct hotel, so against your better judgment, you’ll take me home with you and let me sleep it off.”

“Okay, Renner. Spill it. How the hell could you possibly know any of that?” you quipped, drying off a glass. He just smirked and took another sip. The towel came to rest over the top of your shoulder, and you put your palms against the bar. “Come on. Tell me.”

“Would you believe me if I said ‘déjà vu’?” he asked, tapping the tip of his fingers against the glass. Small drops of condensation splattered the counter in front of him. You grinned, muttering back ‘no’.

“Happens to me a lot.” He shrugged. “Gold diggers wanna say they slept with a famous guy, their boyfriends get mad, every city has a fat, bald cop that patrols the less desirable parts of town, and every single female bartender I’ve ever met tries to take me home after their shift. I’ve been around the block a few times, honey. I know how this shit works.”

“You’re famous, huh? Some kinda singer?” For the ( _at least_ ) millionth time, he shook his head and chuckled, which came out sounding kind of gravelly and rough. It stopped and started, like a rapid succession of hiccups. The sound emanated from deep in his chest and his shoulders danced with every sound.

“I’m an actor.” You nodded, trying to look impressed. Fact is you weren’t. Not in the slightest. Men like him came and went and were worth a dime a dozen as far as you were concerned. “It’s kinda refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t know who I am, though. No autograph or photo requests, no one grabbing at me, no one trying to cop a feel, y’know?” That one made you laugh, causing an easy tension in your stomach.

“You ready for this?” he asked suddenly, jerking his head towards the blonde in the corner. She was advancing quickly, stalking like a predator towards him, her prey. _No way…_ you mouthed to him. He nodded, and she clambered up on the stool next to him, trying to chat him up. Jeremy shut her down pretty damn quick, telling her he wasn’t interested.

She put her hand on his arm and he looked at you, winking. The burly man from the pool table stopped, hollering at Jeremy about ‘not touchin’ his lady’ and how he was going to ‘rough his punk ass up’ if it happened again.

“I’m not telling you again, lady. Get offa me, and get away from me.” With a huff and a puff, she stormed off, and you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the counter and your chin in your hands.

“Well, Jeremy, I’m shuttin’er down here in about an hour, so feel free to suck down a few more drinks on the house, hand over your keys, and you can sleep it off on my couch.”

“Did I mention the part where we fuck?” You sighed inwardly, pushing another drink at him.

“That was implied, sweetheart.”


	28. Come Back To Me - Aaron Taylor-Johnson - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Come Back To Me by Amely.  
> I positively adore ATJ, and now that he's officially a part of MCU, this happened.  
> Feedback appreciated.
> 
> <3

For eleven years, he’d merely been your best friend. The pair of you were attached at the hip, and no one referred to you as individuals. It was always collective, always “them”, “they”, “us”, and “we”. On more than one occasion, your mother had accidentally spit out the wrong name, calling you ‘Aaron’, rather than your own name. Every waking moment was spent with him, aside from what his filming schedule didn’t allow for. Holidays were spent together, school events were attended together, and you even had birthday parties together as children. Your parents, as well as his, were convinced that the two of you would end up getting married someday.

But at the age of fourteen, he became so much more than _just_ your best friend. That was when you started to notice all the subtle facets to him, like how he had just one small chunk of hair that never wanted to agree whichever direction the rest of his hair went, or how the corners of his eyes creased ever-so-slightly whenever he smiled. His eyes, which you’d never much paid attention to, had become your favorite feature. Different lighting brought out different hues of a pale blue that blended seamlessly with a steely grey.

By your seventeenth birthday, you knew you were completely, absolutely head-over-heels in love with him, and it terrified you to no end. Every inch of his skin had captivated you, with his high cheekbones and defined, squared jaw. The curve of his lower lip was tantalizing, and you often found yourself thinking about your fingers tangled in his unruly mess of curls and that lip wedged between your teeth. But alas, you knew you were nothing more than platonic in your relationship. Regardless of your feelings for him, he had his own for you, and the fervor in your chest, you feared, was unrequited.

When he left for Canada to film parts of Kick-Ass, you couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. You had to tell Aaron the truth, regardless of how it would affect your friendship.

_The sound of knuckles rapping at your window was less than surprising to you. Aaron would use the front door, but in the wee hours of the morning, he often opted to use the window instead. You approached slowly, eyeing your hair in the reflection. Once you deemed it decent, you slid back the latch on the window and opened it. With little to no struggle, he swung his legs through and heaved his nearly six-foot frame into your bedroom._

_“Everything okay? I got your text,” he asked softly, pushing the window shut behind him. You shook your head gently, gesturing for him to have a seat on your bed. He complied with ease, tucking one of his long legs up beneath him. The cocked eyebrow and pursed lips were your first clue that he was a bit confused._

_“I’m really going to miss you,” you muttered, plopping down beside him. The right corner of his mouth twitched a bit and pulled to form half a smile._

_“I’ll miss you too, but I won’t be gone for long. Just a few months is all. Wish you could come with me, but I already promised to call you every chance I get,” he chirped, resting his hand on your shoulder. The touch was reassuring, but you had to resist the urge to shrug it off. Physical contact with him made your head spin. Sweat beaded itself in your palm, and you swiped them against the sides of your shorts. The other side of his mouth mimicked the initial gesture, turning his half smile into a full one. Parenthetic creased formed from the sides of his nose, ending just beside the upturned corners of his mouth._

_You had to remind yourself to take a deep breath before launching into any sort of explanation. That smile of his was enough to steal the very air from your lungs._

_“It’s more than just that, Aaron. We, well… I am… I…” you sighed heavily, tears working their way into your vision. As a response, you looked down, not quite ready let him see how much this was hurting you. He remained silent until you looked back up at him. The wide smile gracing his lips faded quickly, replaced by a genuine look of concern. His long, narrow fingers worked through the tangled brown mess of hair atop his head, and his eyes searched yours for any sign of what had upset you. You drew a shaky breath and cleared your throat to start over._

_“I… Look, we’ve been friends for most of our lives,” you began, trying to take caution in your choice of words. He nodded as his brows sunk into a furrow of further confusion. Briefly, his tongue darted out over his lower lip, and he hesitated before pressing his lips back together. “Over the last few years, I’ve… Well, I… You, I…”_

_You stalled for a moment. These words were stubborn and weren’t going to come out with ease. Aaron slipped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you against him, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder. With your ear pressed just above his heart, you could hear the impatient thumps of his pulse. It sounded hopeful to you, but you attributed it to his overwhelming worry for what had you so worked up._

_A sob bubbled up in your throat, but you choked it back with a sniffle. Aaron’s hands tangled together, leaving you locked in his comforting embrace. In that single gesture, he had given you the courage to speak, consequences be damned._

_“Aaron, I love you,” you whispered. Had he not already been straining his ears to hear you, the confession may have gone unheard._

_“I love you, too. You know that,” he muttered softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You sighed and moved away from him. There was no way you could look at him, but your heard his arms fall to his sides._

_“That’s not what I mean,” you snapped, crossing your arms. You feigned interest in something outside the window, trying to keep yourself from pacing. His reflection appeared behind you, looking more perplexed than before._

_“I’m not sure what you mean,” he questioned. This time, when he put his hand on your shoulder, you did shrug it off._

_“You’re my best friend, Aaron. This wasn’t supposed to happen! I’m in love with you, you dolt! I finally work up the nerve to tell you, and you’re too thick to understand!” His jaw dropped slightly, but his lips remained closed. The tension in his forehead became visible in the form of a crease. You covered your mouth, somewhat surprised by your own outburst. A few tears fell, and you couldn’t seem to find the right words to correct yourself. His eyes darted around the room, looking at everything but you, and finally settled on the floor._

_“Suppose I’d better get going, then.” There was a sadness in his voice that you’d never heard. It almost sounded like disappointment._

_He turned to the window again, pushed it up, and slipped out. You watched him as he sprinted back across the street, your heart heavy._

You made no attempts to contact Aaron after that night. There were no texts, no calls. There was really nothing left to be said between the two of you, considering his reaction to your declaration. To be honest, you were completely gutted by the whole situation. You kept telling yourself that if you’d just kept your mouth shut, everything would be okay. But you hadn’t, and things were far from okay.

Like you, Aaron gave no effort either. None of the promised calls ever came, nor even a single-word text. He didn’t tell you when he was coming home, and when he did come home, he didn’t bother to come see you. It had gotten beyond frustrating. His sister had mentioned that he frequently asked about you, but when confronted with the possibility of asking you himself, he would shut down.

In the six years since, you had managed to pull yourself together. He was not going to ruin you. His absence would not break you. You’d moved to London, away from everything that reminded you of him, attended Uni, and got a job in a small diner to pay your bills until graduation. You had wonderful co-workers and a fantastic boss, Kim, who would let you use your breaks to study.

Naturally, that was where you found yourself late on a Thursday evening. It was a quiet night, with few customers willing to brave the rain. One patron, who was a regular, was seated at the end of the counter. Mr. Fenton was a kind, frail, elderly man. Aside from him, you, and the shift cook, David, the entire building was vacant.

“My dear, may I please get a few packets of sugar?” Mr. Fenton asked, just as you were tugging off your apron. You gave him the sweetest smile you could muster, despite all the stress weighing you down, and placed that plastic carrier on the counter. He thanked you quietly. Like every other night, you set his slice of apple pie in front of him and refilled his coffee mug with decaf.

“Whipped cream tonight, Mr. Fenton?” He acknowledged with ‘yes please’, and you grabbed the can. “Just say when!” He allowed you to pile the cream on his pie for several seconds until there was a mountainous heap. The pie was doused in whipped cream, just how you knew he liked it.

“Can I get anything else for you?” He shook his head.

“No, thank you, miss. You’re too kind.”

“If you need anything, just holler. I’ll be right over there, okay?” You gestured to the booth in the back corner, right next to the window. The table top was covered in loose papers, textbooks, and pencils galore. With a minor nod, he dismissed you with a toothy grin, telling you not to take any flack from those damn papers, to show ‘em who’s boss.

You settled into your seat and got busy, trying to concentrate on the essay you were writing. The only sounds to be heard were the occasional clinking of Mr. Fenton’s fork against his plate, the scratch of your pencil on paper, flipping pages, and the occasional curse from David in the kitchen. About the time you turned the page in your notebook, the door chimed, and you didn’t have to look up.

“Go ahead and grab a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll get you a menu,” you said kindly, trying to finish writing the previous sentence. There was an affirmative mutter and you could hear the air escaping the worn cushion as this new customer sat down two seats from Mr. Fenton. It took copious amounts of effort to tear yourself away from the homework in front of you, but you had a job to do.

“My dear girl, would you please be so kind as to refill my mug?” Mr. Fenton asked, just as you reached for said menu. You tugged one from the cubby and slid it across to the new addition, then grabbed the coffee pot from its place on the warmer. When you went to put the pot back, Mr. Fenton spoke up again.

“Such a gentle soul you are, young lady. Always patient, always smiling…” You gave him a sheepish smile and looked down, trying to mask the slow blush crawling across your cheeks. A hand fished in the pocket of your apron, and you pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

“And you, Mr. Fenton, are always so full of compliments!” You clicked the back of the pen, extending the tip. There was a slight shuffle of your feet, and you found yourself in front of the new patron. For the first time since he entered, you actually glanced at him. He had a lengthy mass of dark curls and eyes that appeared to glitter under the harsh fluorescent lights. The last time you’d looked into those eyes was one of the worst days of your life, the day that you lost everything you held dearest. Your heart leapt into your throat and began to beat erratically. Breaths became shallow and nervous as his gaze met yours. His chest rose as he drew in a deep breath and folded his hands together. Your name rolled off his lips in a half-whisper. You weren’t prepared, obviously, but he didn’t look surprised. He had to have known you were here.

His stare drifted over your form, and he gave you that heart-melting smile. He leaned forward, pushing the menu back towards you.

“What can I get for you?” you asked in a hushed tone, trying not to draw any extra attention.

“Dinner. For the two of us.”


	29. Come Back To Me - Aaron Taylor-Johnson - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Come Back To Me by Amely.  
> Got plans for a few more about him, since I haven't seen any others.  
> If my slang is incorrect, please let me know!  
> Feedback appreciated.
> 
> <3

“Dinner. For the two of us,” he replied coolly. There was no fluctuation in his voice to suggest that it was a question, leaving it as either a statement or a demand. You looked over to Mr. Fenton, who had his eyebrows raised, creating rolling creases in his forehead. Your lower lip found its way between your teeth, and you chewed on it for a second, mulling over your options.

“I’m still on the clock right now,” you sighed, looking back. “Maybe-“

“Don’t you dare say ‘another night’,” he chided, thumbing his scruffy chin. You raised a challenging eyebrow. “I’ve been waiting years to give you a proper apology, and I can’t wait another day. I’ll sit here and wait until your shift is over if I have to. This is important.”

David, ever the eavesdropping little shit, poked his head around the corner of the door. He called your name, and you turned, glaring.

“You been waitin’ long enough. Just go. I’ll close up tonight, yeah? Don’t sweat it, chick. Get outta here,” he insisted with a smug grin. You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head slightly.

“Oh,” Mr. Fenton butted in. “So this is the little punk you’ve told me about? Why I oughtta…” He shook his fist towards Aaron, but the smile on his face suggested he was jesting. Aaron put his hands up defensively and let out a low chuckle.

“Fine. Let’s go, then,” you sighed, taking off your apron. You rolled it up and tied the strings around it before sliding it into a separate cubby below the counter top. Mr. Fenton gave you a crooked smirk and a two-finger salute as you packed up all your books and papers, and David bid you a good evening as you were walking out the door with Aaron in tow.

The glass of the front door rattled as it slammed behind him, and you opted to leave your bag in your car, rather than lug it around. Aaron had waited patiently, silently, for you to return to his side. When you did, his fingers brushed from your wrist to your palm, like he wanted to take your hand. Before he had the chance, you crossed your arms over your chest.

The walk felt more like aimless wandering, and you weren’t exactly sure where the two of you were supposed to be headed. A heavy silence had settled in, feeling more like an awkward walk with a stranger, rather than your former best friend. To be fair, so much had changed for you both since you’d last spoken, making him feel like a stranger. You licked your lips, prepared to break the silence, but you quickly closed your mouth. No words came to mind. You couldn’t be sure if you were angry with him or saddened by his sudden resurfacing.

“You really shouldn’t do that,” Aaron muttered, glancing over to you. You raised an eyebrow as your eyes shifted to his. “Your lips will get chapped. I know how much you hate that.”

A huff of laughter exited your nose, and you smiled a little.

“How did you find me?” you prodded. Curiosity, not surprisingly, got the best of you. You had to know. Had it been an accident, he would’ve corrected you right off the bat, but he hesitated.

“I, uh… I just got back from the States this morning. Had to drop some things off for my parents, and I ran into your dad. He told me you had moved, that you were going to school and such. So, I asked him to write me directions to the easiest place to find you.” He fell silent again, and you let your arms fall loose, dangling by your side. He must have seen an opportunity and elected to take it, because he laced his fingers between yours and gave you a squeeze.

“I did try to call, you know?” You looked down, watching the pavement pass under your feet. His admission hit you hard. “Took me three months of being gone to realize what I’d left behind, and I tried to call. Your mum said you changed your number, but she wouldn’t give it to me. Sounded chuffed to bits that I rang her, though, dunno why.”

“She never told me,” you replied curtly. His free hand moved to swipe a stray strand of hair from his face and he stopped, forcing you to stop as well.

“I’m so sorry,” he said gently, using his grip on your hand to pull you closer to him. Your eyes darted to a chunk of gravel beside his foot. Another squeeze on your hand prompted you to nip at the inside of your lip.

“Will you look at me? Please?” The urgency seeping through his words sent a pang of guilt through your gut. Since he came into the diner, you’d managed to keep the eye contact to a minimum, but there was no avoiding it anymore. So, you mounted your best defensive face and looked him square in the eye. You tried to tell yourself that there was nothing he could say or do that could possibly make this up to you. Adamant, you weren’t about to forgive him so easily.

“I know I’ve been a royal prat since the last time I saw you. I’ve had to live with that every day. This is a piss poor apology, and I’m sure I’m a few years too late, but I love you, too.” He kept his tone strong and even, probably in an attempt to show you that he meant it. He was seriously.

“Really?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Arse over elbow, darling.” The look in his eyes was the furthest thing from mockery. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way anymore, but-“

You’d heard enough. There was a brief moment of consideration before you pressed your lips to his, and it seemed to catch him off guard. He reacted immediately, winding his arms around you. Your hands came to rest on his cheeks. When you felt the desperate need for a breath, you parted from his mouth. Still caught up in the moment, you left less than an inch between your lips and his.

“But I would never forgive myself for not telling you,” he finished with half-lidded eyes and a mad-man smile. “Glad I did.”


	30. Sincerely Me - Aaron Taylor-Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Sincerely Me by Artist Vs Poet.  
> Inspired while I was arranging flowers yesterday for Mother's Day.  
> Probably one of my favorites that I've ever written!  
> Feedback appreciated!
> 
> <3

Two years. One-hundred and four weeks. Seven-hundred and thirty days.

That’s how long the flowers had been showing up. Every Monday, you’d go into work to find a vase of fresh flowers on your desk. Working at a PR firm had some strange perks at times, but this was definitely unusual. Sometimes there was a ribbon tied around the vase, others there was a note. The notes were always hand-written, very neat and legible. More often than not, they were endearing, bidding you a wonderful week and the like.

Your boss refused to let you review the security footage, and your co-workers dare not speak of the man who continually brought you flowers. The whole situation was strangely comforting, especially after your boss gave you full assurance that the man behind the weekly gifts was wonderful. She’d specified that he was wildly attractive, soft-spoken, and unbelievably charming.

This mysterious man had boldly gone all out for your birthday, ensuring that you couldn’t even see the top of your desk. He’d gifted you twenty-two red roses, to coincide with your age, on a blanket of white tulips that spanned every inch of the top of your desk. The following year, however, he kept it simple. You were hand delivered a box of chocolates, a dozen roses tied together with a black ribbon, and a letter. Typically, he never sent more than five or six words, so you were a bit taken aback by the sudden gesture. The letter had not been hand-written, per the usual, but rather type-written. Clearly, someone had done their research in regards to the things you enjoyed. Still, everyone refused to even give you a hint as to who had done this, but Donna, your boss, suggested reading the letter, as it may have been signed. Without a second thought, you hooked your thumb under the flap on the back and tore into it.

_To You:_

_I feel as if I need to apologize profusely for the secrecy. I’m so often on-the-go that I, regrettably, am unable to make these deliveries in person. Hopefully soon, I’ll be able to. I’ve been reliably informed that my gifts are well-received and you don’t find me to be particularly frightening. I appreciate that to no end. Perhaps when I have a big enough break in my schedule, I’ll be able to drop by and properly introduce myself._

_The first day I met you (and I assure you, we have met), you had flowers delivered to you. Donna mentioned that you’d just earned a promotion and the flowers were from her. When the florist walked through the door and stopped at your desk, your entire face lit up, and I’ll admit, I was speechless. The smile on your face was absolutely breath-taking. At that point, I realized that, while I didn’t even know your name, I wanted to be the one bringing about that smile._

_Happy birthday._

_Sincerely,_

_Me   xx._

Without notice, a solitary tear slid down your cheek and the widest smile possible spread over your lips, and of course, Donna had recorded the whole thing.

 

That had been three months ago, and still, the deliveries had not ceased. You’d spent those three months revisiting client logs, trying to track down the list of people who’d come in on that particular day. All that work was to virtually no avail, though, considering that there were over thirty male clients in Donna’s office alone that day. To say you were getting frustrated would be a vast understatement.

“My dear, would you be so kind as to join me in my office?” Donna asked softly, leaning against your desk. You nodded and stood, pushing your chair in. You followed her into her spacious room and she pressed the door shut behind you before asking you to have a seat.

“Is there something wrong?” you inquired, unsure as to what was going on. She shook her head vehemently with an ever-growing smile.

“No, no! Not at all, sweet girl. I just wished to tell you that your birthday wish has come true!” You raised a skeptical eyebrow and shot her a questioning look. “I’m giving you a long lunch break today. I’ll need you to run home and gather up a nice outfit and anything you may need to get yourself gussied up. You, my darling, have a dinner date tonight.”

Your lowered eyebrow shot up to meet the other, both high on your forehead. For a second, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep you from speaking out of turn. She paid you no mind and continued.

“He’ll be here at six o’clock sharp. Poor fellow has been running amok lately, and this is his only free week for months. I promised him that I’d make sure you were comfortable with it, though with how excited you get every Monday morning, I suppose it’s hardly an issue. The suspense is winding down, and he’s positively over the moon on the matter.” You hesitated, your nerves utterly shot. “You do trust me, don’t you? I’d never allow a man to take you out if I didn’t firmly believe you’d be safe.”

You nodded, thanking her softly. She gave you a wink before telling you how enthused she was that you were finally to know the man who had been sending you flowers for two long years. Admittedly, you were quite motivated yourself. She dismissed you with a kind smile, and you returned to your desk. When you sat down, there was a small white card, folded in half, on your keyboard.

_Miss, would you do me the kind honor of accompanying me to dinner this evening? xx._

The handwriting matched the other non-typed notes you’d received.

You hadn’t even been away from your desk for ten minutes! Your eyes scanned the area around you, trying to identify any possible person who could’ve left this behind, but saw no one other than co-workers and a pair of female clients. Obviously, no one visible could’ve been the perpetrator. Your gaze migrated to Donna’s office window. She was peeking between the blinds and gave you a smile and a thumbs-up once she saw the paper in your hand. You grinned back, all uneasy feelings disappearing. Donna was right. If she weren’t absolutely sure that you’d have a great time, she’d never have allowed this…

 

*

 

Since you were off work by five o’clock most nights, Donna had allotted time for you to get ready at the office. It had been planned as such, because he did not wish to delve into your personal life. Apparently, he’d urged Donna to allow him to pick you up from work, rather than your apartment, so that he didn’t come off as stalkerish. Donna admitted that she’d initially put up a fuss, but considering how well she knew you, eventually she relented.

Currently, it was a quarter to six, and your nerves were a jumbled mess. You couldn’t think straight and kept fidgeting, twirling your hand or checking your make up again, just to make sure nothing had been messed up in the two minutes since you last checked. Fifteen minutes prior, Donna sat down with you and gave you a description of the man you were meeting. Her words encouraged excessive use of imagination, considering just how vague her details really were. She didn’t want to give away the surprise.

“Well, he’s tall. Quite a bit taller than you, dear, with blue eyes and dark hair. He’s a total charmer. You’ll know him the second he walks in.”

Much to your surprise, you _did_ know him. The second he walked in the door, you recognized him. He fit Donna’s loose description to the letter, and you sat there, hoping and praying that he was your secret florist.

He was taller than you, standing at an almost staggering six foot. The shade of blue in his eyes wasn’t quite the blue you’d imagined. It was even better. They were flecked with a faint grey, and they seemed to have a life all their own, vibrant and shimmering. His cheek bones were well-defined, drawing lines towards the tip of his narrow nose. The corners of his full lips were twisted into a sly smirk, and the stubble on his jaw line gave him an air of trouble, though he was clearly far from it.

You weren’t paying attention to anything other than his face, not until you realized he was right in front of you, and his lips were moving. Blinking, you drew a blank. He chuckled, and _good god_ , what a beautiful sound that was. You cocked an eyebrow, and he repeated what he was asking: your name.

There was an affirmative nod, and you stood up. He offered out his hand, which you took timidly into your own. You went to shake it, but he instead drew your hand to his mouth. The heat of his breath on your flesh sent a welcomed shiver up your spine, and he pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“Wonderful to finally meet you again. I’m Aaron,” he grinned, voice muffled by your skin.

“I know who you are,” you replied breathlessly. Your heart was racing, and you feared that it may just beat itself right out of your chest. The rate of contracting in your lungs made you a bit dizzy. He moved around the side of your desk after releasing your hand and shoved both of his into the pockets of his jacket.

“Donna said you were pretty pleased with all the flowers, yeah?” You nodded emphatically, gesturing to the vase on the corner of your desk. They’d arrived on schedule, before you did, on Monday morning. Despite three days ware, they were still holding up impeccably. He’d gotten your favorites, of course.

“They’re beautiful, thank you.” He thumbed his nose nervously.

“I apologize for not coming in sooner. Filming has been a right zoo up until now.” Again, he chuckled, more so at himself. “I’m sorry, but do you… Is it alright if I hug you?”

You snickered a bit, then held out your arms. He hesitated for a moment before leaning down. The somewhat bulky mass of his arms encircled your rib cage and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He squeezed you tightly, pulling your entire body against his.

There was something comforting about the way he held you. It was a firm but tender grasp, like he wanted to be closer but was afraid of unintentionally hurting you. Until someone cleared their throat behind you, you stayed wrapped in his arms. But with Donna’s new interruption, you felt the need to part from him. He clearly didn’t get the same feeling, but allowed for a minor gap to form between you.

“You two have fun tonight. Don’t forget to lock the door behind you on your way out, dear!” she chirped, making her way towards the front. Aaron chuckled, his arms still planted around you.

“Suppose we’d best get going if we’re going to make our reservation, huh?” he snorted, unmoving. You nodded, but couldn’t tear your stare from his eyes. “I meant to say this earlier, but you look absolutely stunning.”

His voice had dropped to just above a whisper. You mouthed back a quick thank you. His eyes darted from your eyes to your lips and bounced back and forth hesitantly. Unconsciously, the pair of you were both leaning into each other more. To this day, you still don’t know what exactly came over you, but you froze scant inches from him, eyes locked on one another’s.

“Do you… Is… Is it alright if I kiss you?” you asked, somewhat mockingly. A lopsided smirk cracked his intense exterior, and the nod he gave you could’ve easily been missed, had you not been anticipating it. You leaned up a little further, allowing your lips to drift slowly across his. His shoulders shuddered under your arms, and his hands shifted to grace your ribs. One of your hands migrated from his tense shoulder to his cheek. After a moment in the same position, the tip of his tongue traced your lower lip. When he retracted, his teeth grazed the same lining. You adjusted the other hand to the side of his neck, dissolving any space that remained.

Finally, you needed to take a breath. You pulled back just barely, leaving your lips to rest against his.

“Two years… Two fucking years, I’ve waited for this,” you sighed, trying to calm your breathing. His chest rumbled with laughter, and you felt the reverberation in your bones.

“You happy with it, then? Glad it was me?” You nodded, letting the nail of your index finger trace circles on his neck. He placed a sweet, gentle kiss at the corner of your mouth. “I’m just glad you don’t think I’m a creep.”

_I’m yours, sincerely me._


	31. Überlin - Aaron Taylor-Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Überlin by R.E.M.  
> Partially because the entire video is ATJ dancing, partially because of the use of the word flying, thus this piece.  
> Feedback appreciated!
> 
> <3

_LAX to Heathrow, what a fucking nightmare. Ten and a half uninterrupted hours of screaming children, yappy elderly women, and probably some big ol’ whopper of a guy taking up half the fucking seat next to me... Sounds like a magnificent evening, doesn’t it?_

You were certainly bitter enough about having to catch a last-minute flight to London, but the fact that it was Christmas Eve was even worse. Mechanical troubles were responsible for an unscheduled stop in New York City, and to top it all off, a god damn snowstorm grounded the remainder of the flight until said storm passed. Couple that with the biting temperatures outside and you were beyond livid. Absolutely nothing was going right for you.

The chair beneath you was hard and unforgiving, the edge digging into the back of your thighs. No matter how you crossed, uncrossed, or tucked your legs, the metal continued to jab into your skin. With an aggravated groan, you shifted yet again, earning an initially irritated stare from the man seated across from you. You noticed him do a double take, then proceed to ogle any of your visible skin. Your fingers pulled your cardigan tighter around you. He continued to eye you over the top of his tablet with suggestive facial expressions. More than once, he reached down to adjust the zipper of pants. For the billionth time, you squirmed a bit, about to move to another seat.

“So sorry, my love!” an unfamiliar voice chirped in your ear. A young man, roughly your age, took a seat next to you, slinging his arm over your shoulders. “I couldn’t find that magazine you wanted, but I did get you some sweets!” He tossed a small paper bag in your lap, winking at you. You smiled kindly, not quite sure what he was playing at. He nudged your thigh with his knee, turning to face you. His gaze darted from you to the man across from you and back. He leaned it, whispered ‘ _play along_ ’ almost inaudibly, and kissed your cheek.

“Thank you,” you replied as soon as he began to retreat. Whether you were thanking him for the rescue or the candy, you weren’t so sure. But it was enough to deter the uncanny stranger.

“It’s late, dear. Would you like to go grab some coffee or do you wanna have a kip?” You raised an eyebrow. He chuckled, tucking a wild curl behind his ear. “A nap, love. Coffee or nap?” Apprehensively, you weighed your options before deciding.

“Coffee, if that’s okay with you, babe. I’ll sleep when we can board.” He grinned at you and stood again, grabbing his sack of candy off your crossed legs. Ever the apparent gentleman, he shouldered your carry-on and offered out his hand to you. You took it without a second thought. _Anything to get away from that fucking creep…_ Your knight in shining armor (well, jeans and a sweater) escorted you away from the seating area. Once you were certain that creep could no longer see you, you stopped, pulling your new companion to a stop as well.

“Thank you,” you sighed, reaching for your bag. He pulled back a bit.

“You’re very welcome. I was serious about the coffee, though.”

“I suppose I could manage that. Such an act of heroism on your behalf, I’ll gladly buy you a cup.” His expression was serious, but hinted amusement.

“I won’t have that. I’ll buy if you’d be so kind as to sit and chat with me, yeah?” A small smile cracked your lips and you nodded. He shifted your bag on his shoulder and held out his hand.

“Aaron, by the way,” he grinned. You shook his hand firmly, replying with your name. Aaron adjusted, holding out his elbow. You slipped your hand through and made your way to the closest Starbucks in the airport.

 

*

 

After four hours of the flight being grounded, it was finally cleared for takeoff. The runway had been shoveled, the snow had stopped falling, and the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. It was just after seven in the morning, and you were finally allowed to board the plane again. You scanned the row numbers, finding your seat: 42A. There was a thought at the forefront of your mind, praying that no one would occupy the seat beside you, nor the aisle seat, for that matter. But alas, no such luck.

A familiar tangle of dark curls bounded down the aisle, concentrated on the numbers. He paused about three rows ahead, sliding his bag off his shoulder. Once he spotted you, a mad grin appeared. The bag was unceremoniously stuffed into the overhead bin above you, and he took he seat: 42B. _Well, if I’m going to be stuck next to someone this whole time, I’m glad it’s him._

“So we meet again,” Aaron chuckled.

“Were you next to me on the first flight, too?” He looked a bit disappointed at that, but shook his head. Your heart dropped into your stomach, and you placed a hand on his forearm. “That came out a bit rude, didn’t it? I just meant that I’d probably remember having you beside me on the first half.”

Aaron perked up a bit at this, that mega-watt smile returning, doubling in size.

“I was actually sitting by the aisle. Stewardess kept bumpin’ my elbow when she passed. ‘sides, that prat across from you earlier was sitting beside you. Definitely didn’t like the way he was looking at you while you slept either. Right arse, that man. S’pose it’s okay for me to sit here, or do you figure I ought to move?” He started to get up, but you tightened your grip on his arm and pulled him back down.

“Don’t go,” you insisted, tacking ‘please’ on the end. He just chuckled and settled back in his seat.

“Going to London for business or fun?” he asked, putting his other hand over yours. You glanced up to see that disgusting excuse for a man from the sitting area making his way towards you with that contemptuous look on his face.

“Business, but I’ll be there for a while. How about you?” He followed your gaze, unflinching when you laid your head on his shoulder.

“If it’s not obvious,” he whispered, resting his head on top of yours. “I’m heading home. So I’d say a bit of both, really.”

“And you’re up to pretending you actually know me for the next seven hours or so?” He nodded and laced his fingers between yours, kissing your knuckles just as the man approached. The man cleared his throat, and Aaron looked him over with a skeptical look.

“You’re in my seat, buddy,” he snapped. Aaron just laughed.

“Look, you tosser, I didn’t fight you on it when you sat between us, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit by my girlfriend this time. I’m sure if it’s that big of a deal, the crew will allow you to find another open seat once we take off. ‘m not movin’, though.” There was a scoff, followed by incoherent grumbling. The man begrudgingly took the seat, but not without more protests and gripes.

Aaron laid his head back down on yours and squeezed your hand. You could just tell he had a big ol’ shit-eating grin on his face. It was probably smug as all hell, too. The flexion of his facial muscles against the top of your head kind of gave it away.

“Would you like to get some food when we land? Y’know, before we go to see my parents?” he asked softly. Considering you’d only met him mere hours before, you knew exactly what he was asking.

“I’d love to.”


	32. Don't You Wanna Stay - Aaron Taylor-Johnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Don't You Wanna Stay by Jason Aldean and Kelly Clarkson  
> Sorry it's a bit on the short side.
> 
> You know the drill.  
> <3

With a sharp hiss followed by a hushed groan, Aaron dropped beside you. Sweat beaded on his skin, periodically rolling down the front of his throat, sometimes down his chest. His hair was mussed, sticking out at odd angles. The air was thick with the scent of sex. Humidity from perspiration only managed to make the room feel hotter, and it felt like flames were licking at your exposed flesh.

Aaron was still breathing erratically. His chest rose and fell in an unnatural rhythm, and he pressed his palms firmly to his chest. In an attempt to regain control, he forced out a long, hard breath, puffing his cheeks. You glanced over at him, offering up a weak smile. Every muscle in your body felt like jello, trembling, quaking. His eyes were trained on the ceiling.

“I think that’s a new record,” he muttered breathlessly when you placed one of your hands on top of his. Timid fingers laced between yours, and he brought your bundled hands to his lips, kissing each of your fingers. “Don’t think we’ve ever gone at it so many times in one day.”

Your smile hesitantly grew. He squeezed your hand in his and allowing his gaze to wander from your face downward. The feeling of his eyes washing over your bared flesh sent a sharp chill up your spine. _How does he always manage to get to me like this?_

“I don’t think we’re done yet,” you murmured, using all your energy to roll to your side. His free hand came to rest nonchalantly behind his head, but he did look at you. That look was filled with so much care and concern; it damn near broke your heart.

“That so?” He pressed more kisses to your fingers, pausing to trace a line with the tip of his tongue up your index finger. You nibbled on the inside of your lip, fighting back a sigh. It never failed to amaze you how quickly he bounced back.

“I may need a shower and a quick nap before we go another round, though,” he chuckled, giving you a quick kiss. As soon as he pulled back, you leaned in to steal a few more. Each was as soft and sweet as the last, and they all made you want to swallow the words that were about to come out.

“Guess I’d better head out, then, huh?” Aaron frowned slightly. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

“You don’t have to, you know…” You shook your head adamantly.

“Aaron, we agreed, remember?” You sat up slowly, grabbing your panties from where they’d landed at the end of the bed. Still seated, you worked them up your legs. It was easy, considering you could control your muscles again, but still difficult in the aspect that the fatigue was starting to set in. You let out a muted grunt of discomfort.

“You alright? Was I a bit too rough this time?” His voice was weighed with concern. You gave him a sympathetic smirk as you hooked your bra.

“I’m fine. You know I like it rough.” With a wink, you moved to pick your shirt up off the floor. Just as you pulled it over your head, Aaron’s arms slipped around your hips. His forehead dropped against the side of your head. Kisses plastered your neck and shoulder.

Every time he was home, this was what happened. The pair of you would go at it like animals for hours, only stopping long enough to catch your breath. Even with a refractory period, he’d take to teasing until he was ready again. Once he mentioned food or sleep, you’d get dressed, give him a few chaste kisses, and assure him you’d let him know when you got home. Neither of you ever pressed the issue further.

To be fair, it’s not like you were using him, nor he you. There was an immense mutual attraction between you two, but with his schedule, your schedule, and everything in between, there was no way it would work. Things would be great until they suddenly weren’t, and then it’d just be a disaster. Your break-up would be over the phone or by text. That just wasn’t the kind of thing you wanted to have with him. He had even agreed with you, saying that it wouldn’t harm anything to be physically intimate without the confines of a relationship. As much as you both desperately _wanted_ a relationship, it just wasn’t in the cards.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, lips not leaving your skin. “I don’t want to wake up later without you here.” With a loaded sigh, you turned to face him. His fingertips dug into your lower back as he pulled you closer.

“Aaron, we agreed…” He shook his head softly, making his tousled curls bounce to and fro.

“I know. I know we agreed. We said this could never work, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending like it’s not killing me to watch you leave. When we talked about all this, I made a mistake, okay? I fucked up. I wasn’t expecting to feel this way. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to; I would never force you to. But I know you. I know you wouldn’t keep coming back to me if you didn’t still feel something too. So, please, darling, please stay.”

Damn him. Damn those eyes, that smile, those hands. Damn it all. He was making this so much more difficult than it needed to be…

You placed your hands on the sides of his neck, cradling it like he was made of glass. He stared intently, pleadingly.

“Do you want this to change?” you asked softly. Aaron’s hands shifted to give your hips the same fragile hold. He tugged a bit, pressing his entire front to yours.

“I want everything to change. I want us to be real. Us. You and I together. We’ll figure out how to work around our schedules. I’d rather we find out just where this will go instead of just assuming it’ll end awfully. We can try.”

“Did you just monologue me?” He chuckled, giving you a quick peck.

“I’m taking that as you agreeing.”


	33. Got It Made - Zachary Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Got It Made by Theory of a Deadman.  
> Feedback appreciated!
> 
> <3

“Babe… Babe, wake up. Come on, let’s go.” Zachary nudged you, placing delicate kisses right under your ear. You groaned meekly, rubbing your eyes. The clock on the nightstand read just after two in the morning, and you rolled over, pressing into Zac’s chest. He chuckled heartily, running his fingers through your hair.

“Come on, sugar, up and at ‘em,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “We’ve gotta get going.”

You looked up at him, searching in the dark to meet his eyes. There was a haughty smirk on his face, you could just tell. He was up to something… You just weren’t quite sure what yet.

“Zac, I’m sleeping. Can’t this wait?” He raised an eyebrow, but kissed your forehead again.

“Nope. Sorry, sunshine, but we gotta go! Get up, get up! Just grab a change of clothes and get in the car. I gotta go grab some things, so I’ll meet you out there,” he muttered, peppering more kisses on your face. “And don’t make me come back in here, either. If I have to wake you up again, I’m just throwing your ass in the trunk!”

Before he left the room, he flicked the light switch, temporarily disorienting you. You slapped your hands over your eyes. Zac snickered from the doorway, reminding you yet again to get up.

After a few minutes of stalling and rolling around, trying to go back to sleep, you finally gave up. You hauled yourself out of bed, slipping into a pair of sweatpants and one of Zac’s t-shirts. A pair of jeans and a hoodie were stuffed into a small bag, and you threw it over your shoulder. He must’ve gotten a pretty interesting idea, because this was far from normal.

You slipped on a pair of socks, followed by your shoes, and heading outside. The car was already unlocked and running, so you tossed your bag in the back seat and settled in, preparing to just go back to sleep on the drive to, well, wherever he was taking you. But there was no time for that, because as soon as you secured your seatbelt, Zac came bounding out of the house, shutting the front door behind him. He jogged to the driver’s side door while you curled yourself up in the set.

“Thanks for cooperating, babe,” he chuckled, leaning over to kiss your cheek. You grunted, letting your head rest on his shoulder. Zac laid his head on top of yours. “I know you’re mad that I woke you up, but I promise you this will be worth it.”

“Where are we even going?” you mumbled, closing your eyes.

“Who knows? We’re just gonna take a drive and see where we end up. But it’ll be worth it.” He shrugged his shoulder, shooting you a playful grin. The gear shift slipped back into reverse with ease, and Zac lifted his foot off the break, setting the whole spur-of-the-moment trip into motion.

He drove for what seemed like hours. Considering the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, it _had_ been hours. The entire time was spent in the fast lane, though Zac never once overshot the speed limit by any more than five miles per hour. He was always a cautious driver. City lights passed by the windows, creating vibrant blurs through the glass. The sun may have been rising, but it was still just dark enough for you to have time to admire the city itself. Zac had one hand wrapped around yours and the other with a loose grip on the steering wheel. He zipped over to the far right lane, looking to take exit 141B. All the winding back roads led to a lake. It was a route you were beyond familiar with, since it was a drive you’d taken every summer since high school with Zac’s family.

“You up for some skinny dipping?” Zac asked, wiggling your hand back and forth. You looked at him with a playful smirk and tugged the t-shirt off, tossing it in the back seat. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

The vehicle came to a halt mere feet from the sandy shore of the lake. Wind stirred cresting waves, crashing down on each other like dominos. Sunlight had just barely broken, causing the sky to look like a painting of sorts. Reds and oranges faded into pinks and purples. A vibrant yellow teetered just over the hills lining the background of this masterpiece, a stark contrast to the edge of the water. It wasn’t nearly as murky as most large bodies of water, but rather quite clear and absolutely beautiful. The tide lapped at the sand, carrying pieces away.

Zac had a big grin on his face as he shut off the car and slipped the key from the ignition. His shirt joined yours in the back, leaving his taut, tan skin on display. The look in his eye was like a dare for you to remove the next article. You met that challenge head-on, kicking off your shoes. Neatly, you stuffed your socks inside, and then set the pair behind the driver’s seat. He mimicked you as quickly as he could, putting his shoes behind the passenger’s seat.

“Your turn _again_ ,” he taunted. With a cocked eyebrow and a sly smirk, you reached back to unhook your bra. One, two, three, the hooks fell from the eyelets. The straps slid down your arms, and, with complete certainty, tossed it over your shoulder. Zac’s eyes widened a little.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting that,” he admitted with a low chuckle.

“I think it’s your turn now.” With a smug wink, you nudged his hand with yours. “Get to it, _sunshine_.” He reached cautiously for the button of his jeans before hesitating. Raising a finger, he opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, he just went back to the task at hand. Those lengthy, narrow fingers worked deftly to pop the copper button from the hole it was slotted in. He gave you a lewd eyebrow waggle and pulled the zipper down torturously slow.

“You’re a fucking _tease_ ,” you murmured, leaning over to kiss his cheek. Zac snorted and raised his hips, shoving his jeans down to his knees. Another shift and they dropped to his ankles. He kicked them off, and they joined the rest of the pile beginning to form.

In a matter of minutes, your sweatpants and a pair of undergarments topped off the stack. Zac was the first out of the car, and he booked it into the lake. His long legs allowed him to take much longer strides than you were capable of, but you weren’t far behind him. Once the water reached his waist, he dove head-first into it. You waded in a little deeper, seeing his head pop up several feet in front of you.

He whirled around, freezing as soon as he spotted you. A particularly naughty smirk caught his lips, and he disappeared beneath the surface again. You knew exactly what he was up to, and you weren’t going to make it easy. The pattern of movements you followed was intended as a deterrent, but knowing Zac, he would not be easily swayed from his target. His hands gripped your hips. When he resurfaced, the cool water splattered across your shoulder blades, and his arms came full-circle around you.

“Glad you decided to listen to me?” he sighed into the side of your neck. You nodded, turning your head to press your lips firmly to his.

**Author's Note:**

> Harass me on tumblr: @sebeefstianstan


End file.
